


Of old beasts and new gods

by ToyBoxOfSuz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Beta Derek Hale, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fluff, Forced Marriage, Human Scott McCall, Human Stiles, Insanity, Kidnapping, King Peter Hale, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marriage, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Molestation, Prince Stiles, Rescue, Royalty, War, Wedding, Wedding Night, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Peter, warlord peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 84,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToyBoxOfSuz/pseuds/ToyBoxOfSuz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Hale is a warlord who rebelled and conquered the Stilinski Kingdom. He demands to be wed to the crownprince: Stiles Stilinski and become the king. After five years of war... Stiles accepts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a NaNoWriMo project and I put more effort and time into it than it's acceptable. It's a finished story. I plan to update weekly, but might be longer, because I tend to freak out over the chapters...
> 
> Betaed by: lilred and Evy~

PROLOGUE

Scott was looking troubled. His brows were furrowed and his lips were a thin line as he was thinking of saying something. Stiles wasn’t sure if he planned on making him stop, talk about it again, or just straight out wanted to tell his prince and best friend how stupid he was. Stiles had heard it all before.

“Are you sure?” Scott asked finally. The ringing of the keys in his fiddling hands was loud in the silence of the prison.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Stiles retorted with a raised eyebrow. Though his glance wasn’t on his friend, who was also the captain of his personal guards. He was watching the man behind the wooden bars; the man who burned down their country to rise to power, throwing them into an endless, bloody chaos. The man, who married him, stained his and his family’s reputation. He took so much and had promised peace in return. But there was no peace under his rule.

“They execute him tomorrow, Stiles…“ Scott tried once again and Stiles finally turned his face toward him. The torches around them were giving of a dangerous light to his features, and Scott couldn’t surpass a worried swallow. Stiles really had changed since his wedding.

“Open it.” the prince ordered and Scott didn’t ask anything anymore. He quietly obeyed, and unlocked the door of the prison cell. Stiles slowly stepped inside, keeping his eyes on their prisoner. It was dark, but the only window and the light of the torches provided just enough light to see. They gave the man a cell where he could see the marketplace where he would be executed.

Where they will cut him in half tomorrow.

Stiles licked his lips again as he stepped closer to the prisoner who was sitting in one of the corners of the cell, chained to the wall. As the man heard him coming, he lifted his head, his shackles rattling quietly. His clothes were ragged on his much thinner frame than Stiles remembered. He was filthy and those blue eyes were the eyes of an insomniac. Stiles recognized that look, because he was one too.

Peter Hale, the Insane King. That will be how the chronicles will remember his name. They will write about his glorious battles, talk about his tactics, and sing about how he was able to kill men, women and children without a second thought and how he wanted to destroy the whole kingdom. But there was one side of him only Stiles could tell about…

 

CHAPTER 1

 

The war was in its fifth year; though the last two years resembled more to desperate surviving. Their kingdom was in ruins, their people were suffering, and a lot of good men and women had died in the fights. The landlords either withdrew into the fortresses or swore loyalty to the warlords: the Hales. It was a world of violence and their kingdom was on the edge of falling apart.

Stiles still remembered his father’s eyes when they got the letter about the fall of their strongest fortress. The message was accompanied with the head of the general who had protected it. The king’s face was dark, his eyes red and his breath was stuck on his lips as he reread the lines of the message. It was a sight Stiles will never forget. It was a point in his life which made him realize his position, and how his life will change from then on. He had a few of these moments deeply buried away in his memories and now, there was one more which will haunt his sleepless nights.

“Dad.” he started, stepping closer to his father, gently covering his shivering fingers with his own. “Let’s accept his offer.” He wanted to be tough when he said it, but his voice broke at the end. Because as Stiles said that, he realized what he had just accepted to.

His father slowly looked at him and Stiles saw the plea in his eyes. That he doesn’t have to do this, there are other ways, there is always a way. He was saying this for the last year, ever since Peter first stated his offer. But right now their options had run out. Of course, they could continue the war, but it would mean everyone will end up dead, the lands will turn into deserts and their kingdom will become the hugest bonfire the world has ever seen.

Peter Hale’s offer was: he will stop the war and the killings, if he can marry the crown prince and become the king of the country.

“How do we know he’ll keep his promise?” The king asked with a sigh in his voice.

“He has to,” Stiles answered even if he wasn’t as sure in Peter Hale as any of them. He was unpredictable; a strong strategist and only one thing was sure about him: he was greedy for power. “He could have kept this up, but he gave us a choice, dad,” The prince tried again. “He wants to be king, he wants power…”

The king sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes as he was thinking about his son’s words.

“You’re just seventeen.” He turned to him, still pleading.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles answered, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s-” he started but his words were cut as his father reached out to hug him tightly. That sealed it. King Stilinski will let his son marry one of the Hale’s warlords for peace.

\--

The tension was almost visible in the castle that day. Servants were running about, tending to their jobs. Royals were whispering the latest gossips; the hottest topic was the wedding of the crown prince. It was the day of engagement and also the day when the war’s end will be declared. It wasn’t exactly clear which part made the guests more excited.

The castle was swarmed by people from all over the country; people who were loyal to King Stilinski and people who were waiting for the new king’s rule. Peter Hale proved he was capable of rising to power fast and he was able to keep it and that was very appealing for future underdogs who wanted to take a bite of that meat too. Stiles looked over these people, feeling sick to his stomach as he was thinking about how easily they switched sides. But his father warned him about this. He was raised to be king, so he had to learn about the etiquette and politics of the royal court. Also, with the war starting he also had to learn how difficult it is to actually keep someone’s honor and that surviving sometimes included switching sides. But is it always worth it, Stiles wondered. Giving up your principles and everything you believed before just to survive? But weren’t your principles your life?

Yes, Stiles was learning a lot about a lot of things, but nothing had prepared him of what was going to happen once he’s wed to Peter Hale. He was familiar with the official run of course. If Peter and he were to become husbands, they will have to state in their marriage settlement who will receive the crown and part of the offer was that Stiles’ right to be king will be transferred to Peter. The moment Stiles signed that piece of paper he’ll no longer be crown prince but Peter will be.

And the following day his father will resign from the throne making Peter Hale the Insane their new king.

Therefore, Stiles was familiar with the externals, but not with the life of being the wife of Peter Hale; if he would even get the chance to live that life… The court was full of gossips about Peter. Ever since he’d rioted against the king, declaring independence and practically taking over the whole kingdom in five years, people wanted to know more about him. But the Hales were secretive and that was one of their strong points. There was a wide scale of gossips about them and Stiles had heard it all.

“The Hales are wizards.”

“All of the Hales died in a fire six years ago and they are back from the dead to take revenge on the country.”

“Derek Hale is a werewolf.”

“Peter Hale is insane.”

“Cora Hale is a witch.”

“Peter Hale had seven wives before, but he killed them all. He killed one with a wine bottle, trashing it down her throat. He suffocated another with raw pig intestines.”

“They drink blood and pray to the Ancient Gods by the full moon.”

“They actually ARE the Ancient Gods.”

Personally, Stiles’ favorite was the one where they said that Peter Hale actually has three heads and vomits a kind of material, from all three mouths, which burns down everything. It was hilarious. He was trying to stick to that image as they were waiting for the man’s arrival in the throne room.

“He doesn’t actually have three heads, I saw him,” Scott muttered from next to Stiles. “But he’s shorter than they say,” he added oh so helpfully and his prince swallowed loudly. “Relax, Stiles.”

Scott was probably the only one who dared to talk to the crown prince like that, but Stiles didn’t mind. They weren’t just prince and guard, they were best friends. Scott was the one who kept Stiles sane and grounded all these years. He is the reason he could adapt to the thinking of people who aren’t royals. Scott’s mother was a nurse in the royal army, serving the kingdom and patching up soldiers; from both sides. Stiles met her a few times and he thought Scott’s mother, Lady McCall was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. After Her Grace Lydia Martin, of course. Scott and Stiles were good friends since when they were little, and Stiles was the happiest when Scott applied to be amongst his personal guards and now look at him, he is the captain of his personal guards.

“I’m trying, it’s just…” Stiles sighed, running his hand through his short brown hair nervously.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know,” the prince hissed quietly and turned his gaze toward Scott. He could see the silent concern on him and it made him even more nervous. Stiles wanted to ask more about Peter, about how he looked, what was Scott’s first impression? Did they ever talk? How did he smell…? He wanted to hear anything to know that Peter Hale wasn’t actually that big of a deal. But he knew that was just an illusion. While there were gossips, and most of them were just fairytales, Peter Hale was a big deal. He might not breathe fire, or kill with only a glance of his eyes, but he was smart and powerful. To top it all he was also violent, the gossips agreed on that one. His name was Peter Hale the Insane, or just simply the Insane. Stiles was trying to think about the three headed version of him again to attempt to calm himself down, but as he heard more people walking up to the door of the throne room it became more difficult.

“Breathe.” He heard Scott’s voice again and he wanted to punch the wall. “I’m here.” And that did the trick. It actually calmed Stiles down, knowing that Scott’s going to be with him through all this chaos. He will be there. He let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and glanced at his friend again.

“Of course you’re here, you’re my personal guard,” Stiles snorted, playfully slapping Scott’s arm. They chuckled a little and Scott opened his mouth to retort something, but then the great door of the throne room opened. The prince and his guard looked over as the king erected from his throne to welcome the warlord and his followers.

Stiles had never seen Peter before, not even a picture, but for some reason he recognized him straight away as he laid his eyes on him. He just knew that the tall figure who was leading the march was Peter Hale.

He really didn’t have three heads. But he had a kind of presence that made everyone in the room silent and not from awe. He filled the place with tense fear. A kind of distress the prey feels before the predator jumps in for the fatal strike. Everyone was afraid. No one could even stutter a word and yet the king welcomed the triumphal march so loud it echoed all over the room.

“I would like to welcome you in my palace, in my home, and amongst my people,” the king said motioning around the throne room and Stiles, once again, realized why his father was king. His words and his voice carried that kind of royal volume which not many possessed. Stiles thought he wasn’t one of them either. Scott sometimes showed potential of it and Stiles swore that he will make him knight one day for it. The king’s words gave everyone’s spirit back, the tension lifted only a little and the intense whispering started. The noise was soft, but Stiles couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ear. His whole body was tense as Peter was walking toward the stairs which lead up to the throne where the king was standing.

The warlord had a confident smirk on his lips, keeping his hand on his sword by his side and his steps didn’t waver as he walked the stairs without even bowing to the king. But why would he do that? He’s going to be one too and apparently Peter Hale’s not bowing to a fallen king. Stiles felt utterly sick as Peter stopped right in front of his father.

Peter was taller, but that’s not why his glance emitted that he was looking _down_ at the king. He didn’t have a drop of respect for him at all as he was eying the older man. His eyes fell on the crown then.

“Is that the crown I’m going to wear?” Peter asked cocking his chin up. His insolence was so shocking it made the whispering stop. Everyone was listening intensely and even the royal guards all around were practically frozen.

“In a few days,” the king answered, still in a steady voice and not turning his eyes away from his enemy, “today’s the day of the end of the war.”

“And my engagement.” Peter smiled and turned his head toward Stiles. The boy’s breath hitched at those eyes. They were the bluest of blue, colder than ice and Stiles felt his stomach drop. He felt as if he’d been stabbed, and probably his heart thought the same because it wanted to break his ribcage to do the job itself.

Stiles was so afraid while he was looking at Peter, he thought he was going to faint. Yes, just what he needed right now. His father was standing straight through it all and he was about to pass out. No, he couldn’t do that to him. Though that decision seemed difficult to pull through as Peter made his way toward him. As the man was walking, time slowed down. Stiles could see his steps, the way his shoulders were moving, how his sword was swaying by his side and that overly confident smirk on his lips grew ever wider. It was almost menacing. The prince wanted to look away, or more like run away, but he couldn’t do that. It wasn’t just about him anymore, but about the fate of a country.

Peter stopped in front of him, eyeing him the same way as he did his father; calculating and cold. Stiles was bearing that look bravely, but it tested his willpower. It made him remember that one time when he had met a wolf. They were out in the woods, hunting with his father, and he’d gotten lost… and as he was crying, a wolf came along and Stiles had gotten utterly scared. He hadn’t been able to look away even if his teacher had told him not to hold the gaze of a wild animal. They would take it as a challenge. Maybe that’s why he didn’t look away now, he wasn’t losing against Peter Hale, no matter how wild he seemed.

Scott must have felt the same tension because when Peter stepped too close, the boy tensed up and grabbed the hilt of his sword. The man’s gaze flickered at him in a silent threat. They were ready to start a fight then and there and Stiles knew he had to do something.

“Scott…,” he whispered to his friend and he hated how hoarse his voice sounded. The boy backed away a little, but still kept his glare on Peter and his hand on his sword. The man smiled and it reminded Stiles of a person who was taunting the tiger outside it’s cage.

“Prince Stiles,” Peter greeted him at last in a deep, rumbling voice and the air in the room had gotten chilly. Especially when the warlord moved to take his hand and lay a kiss on his cold, shivering fingers.

“Sir Pete--” The prince started but Peter interrupted him, squeezing his hand to the point he was afraid he’d break it.

“’Your Majesty’ Peter Hale,” he hissed at the prince and Stiles closed his eyes to keep himself from spitting between the eyes of this monster.

“Not yet,” he snarled when he collected himself enough to talk.

“Your country is in flames, Prince Stiles, I torched it. I control all the big families and my army owns all the strategic points and you still don’t think that I’m the true king?”

“Until we’re married, you’re just a rebel,” Stiles answered, and he was damn proud of himself that he could still talk with a steady voice in the presence of Peter. He was overwhelming in every sense of the word; especially when he was looking at him _like that_.

“I want everyone out of this room, now,” Peter said suddenly, turning on his heels toward the crowd of people and dropping Stiles’ hand.

The king took an angry, deep breath, having yet another silent fight with the usurper of the throne. In the end he lost, just as he lost the war, Stiles thought vaguely. The king motioned toward his guards and took his way toward the entrance. Stiles nodded at Scott too and prepared to follow his father but Peter tilted his head at him.

“Except you.”

“What?” Stiles blinked stopping in his tracks so suddenly Scott almost ran into him.

“I want everyone out of the room except you, Prince Stiles.” Peter repeated in a tense voice, purely out of patience. “And that means I don’t want to see your lapdog here either,” he added, looking at Scott. Stiles felt his chest burn up from anger.

“You might want to check your vision, _Sir_ , I see no dog here,” he answered lightly, spreading his arms, and Scott did an awful job hiding his chuckle. Peter noticed it too and his smirk finally disappeared. The prince marked it down as a victory.

“I don’t think you understand,” Peter started and walked up to Stiles again, closer than ever, into his personal space. His tone was soft and quiet as if talking to a child, but the prince still felt a chill as he was listening to them. “If you won’t send _the dog_ out of here this instant I’ll throw him out that door myself. Limb by limb.”

“We’ll see about that!” Scott started stepping to Peter and he was ready to draw his sword.

“Wait, no!” Stiles gasped, grabbing the boy’s shoulder. The last thing he wanted was Scott getting hurt. Even if he was a talented soldier, better than most of the guards, he still lacked the experience and the cold attitude Peter had. Scott had never killed before, but Peter had and that alone made the man a dangerous opponent. And Stiles needed Scott, still. “It’s alright Scott, just- just go, okay? I’ll be fine. He can’t kill me or he loses the only thing that could make him lawfully king,” he said, squeezing his friend’s shoulder. “It will be fine,” he added quietly, hoping Peter didn’t hear that.

“But… he…” Scott started just as quietly and Stiles’ heart broke how helpless he sounded. He hated to do this to Scott, but it was for his own good.

“Go,” Stiles said in his ‘This is an actual order, Scott’-voice and the guard sighed. He nodded quietly and turned to escort the last of the people leaving the throne room. He was the one closing the door.

The silence was the first thing that hit Stiles. He’d been in the throne room when it wasn’t filled with royals and knights before, but this time it felt a little different.  He wasn’t a child anymore, but he felt small next to the hall’s huge pillars. The late afternoon sunlight of early spring was shining through the tall windows filling the usually grey room with a golden glow. And it was supposed to be magnificent, something out of a book, something magical, but to Stiles, in that moment, it seemed like the place was reflecting the time before the war, when the kingdom was in peace and there were no warlords who trampled all over it. The room was dying along with the StilinskiKingdom.

In the deep silence, Peter’s steps echoed so loudly that the prince flinched. He tore his eyes away from the marble pillars and sunshine on the walls to look at the other person in the room. The man was walking back to the throne, gently stroking the armrest, almost possessively. The prince let out a deep breath through his nose, biting at his lower lip as he was watching.

The next moment Peter moved and sat down on the throne; his sharp smile returned as he looked over the room. Stiles fisted his hands by his sides, thinking how an awful sight it was, Peter Hale on his father’s throne. It was absolutely terrible.

“What are you doing?” The prince asked. “You could be killed just for sitting there, you know.”

“It’s my rightful place,” Peter answered, leaning back with a sigh. “I just like to enjoy the view.”

“Of all the people who like you?” Stiles snorted and Peter turned his head toward him.

“Come here,” he ordered, and the prince crossed his arms, not moving. “Stiles.”

“Prince Stiles.”

“Do you want to keep your tongue or do you prefer to be mute for the rest of your life? I personally advise the second option.”

“What about the third option where you piss off?” Stiles retorted and vaguely wondered what the hell he was doing. Giving attitude to Peter Hale of all people. His father always warned him to not be so rude, and sometimes silence is golden, but Stiles was always the worst when it came to being silent… and now it might be his end.

“You don’t want me to fetch you,” Peter warned and Stiles swallowed. He forced his legs to move and walk to the throne where the man was sitting. His shoulders tensed and he got alarmed as it seemed a default state to be in near Peter, but he still got caught off guard. The man grabbed his arm and yanked him down; Stiles felt a strong hand in the back of his neck and Peter forced him to kneel between his legs, facing him.

It happened so fast and the grip on his neck was so tight Stiles let out a scared yelp, grabbing onto the nearest thing to keep his balance, which was the fabric of Peter’s trousers. He closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth to prepare for the punch or kick or anything that was coming his way. But when nothing happened, Stiles dared to open his eyes in confusion. He felt Peter’s hand on his neck as he looked up at him from where he was kneeling. The man was smiling down at him, almost laughing.

“Yes, enjoying the view,” he said quietly, his gaze roaming over the prince’s face.

“You’re sick,” Stiles hissed and moved to set his crown before it slipped down from his head, but Peter tightened his grip and he decided not to move for now. “What are you-“

“I should make you suck me here and now to prove a point you don’t seem to get through your thick head,” Peter muttered, and pulled the boy’s head closer to his body. If Stiles wasn’t scared before, now he definitely was. Peter wasn’t planning on hurting him, oh no. The man wanted to humiliate him.

“No…” He breathed, wondering where his voice went.

“What?” Peter asked, leaning forward. His breath ghosted upon Stiles’ cheek, who couldn’t help his whimper. Despite the hand on his neck he squirmed to get out of Peter’s grip. “What happened? You’re suddenly not that talkative.”

“Let me go!” Stiles panted, shaking his head, making his crown hit the ground with a loud metallic sound. He was trying to keep his breathing steady, but in the threshold of panic it seemed like a difficult task.

“I thought princes around here were raised to be polite,” Peter hummed and caught the boy’s wrist when he wanted to hit him in a quite sensitive spot.

“Not with rebels like you!” Stiles shouted in a shaking voice, trashing around to free himself from Peter’s iron grip. He felt like the man could smash his skull into pieces if he wanted to, and really, that’s not exactly the death he desired. His struggle didn’t even budge Peter and the more Stiles tried to flee but couldn’t, the more he felt like breaking down. He wanted to cry and sob and beg and run for his life. He wanted to run back to his father and tell him how this was a mistake, that nothing gets better if he marries Peter Hale.

“I’ll be your king in a few days,” Peter snorted a sort of disbelief; as if he couldn’t believe that Stiles still couldn’t accept that. Even after the kind of treatment he’d got, but he didn’t say anything more, rather, he let the boy go.

Stiles wasn’t prepared to be released so suddenly so nothing held him back when he freed himself from Peter’s hands. His vehement threw him where his crown had landed and he’d never felt so humiliated in his life. Judging by Peter’s smug glare it was exactly what he was planning to do. Stiles rubbed his eyes, because of the dust and not because he almost burst out crying. He reached for his crown when Peter started talking again.

“Go now,” was the only thing he said. He just dismissed Stiles, the crown prince, just like that. If Stiles had more energy he would have argued, but he really just wanted to get out of there, to get as far away from Peter as possible.

When Stiles finally met Scott again he must have been a wreck because his captain looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Did he hurt you?” Scott asked putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder as the prince fumed.

“No, he was just being extremely rude. Like, out of this world rude,” the prince complained, trying to calm down. He told himself it was just because he’s not used to this kind of treatment, that’s why Peter’s behavior was affecting him so much. He really wanted to ignore it, forget what just happened in the throne room but he couldn’t. Stiles wasn’t looking forward to the times that were ahead of him.

\--

It was Stiles who chose to accept Peter’s offer and from that moment on, he was thinking about his new position and new life constantly. The prince knew it will affect him and his environment a lot, but he also knew it saved thousands of people. There was already news about people calming down and soldiers withdrawing, leaving the towns alone. Stiles thought it’s already a good thing if he could save at least one life with his choice and it happened to be a good choice.

So Stiles was thinking a lot about this part of the bargain, but completely ignored some other parts of it. For example, how he had to go through a kind of education for it. It wasn’t something he wanted to ever remember, but it put new fears in him. His teacher, Professor Harris, somehow had this amused tone while he was talking about _certain things_ and Stiles wanted to smack him for it. His teacher was too amused for his own good.

“Just because I’m a virgin I shouldn’t go through this torture,” Stiles groaned, rubbing his forehead. He already felt a headache coming and he wasn’t so amused over it. “And you know what? I swear half of these things I just heard are not real. Absolutely can’t be real.” He repeated because _those things can’t be real_. No human body could handle… _that_. Professor Harris is supposed to prepare him for his wedding night, as long as learning and reading about that helps, but all it did to Stiles was to make him more afraid of that night than ever.

“He might not even touch you,” Scott snorted, and Stiles squinted his eyes at him.

“Are you saying I’m not worth touching? Huh? Huh?!” He started, not even leaving the captain to protest. “Just because you already got it on with Lady Argent you think you know everything about it, or what?!”

Scott chuckled and Stiles rolled his eyes at how red his cheeks flushed. He personally had nothing against the relationship between his bodyguard and Lady Allison Argent, the daughter of the royal huntsman, except it made Scott act like a lovesick little puppy at times. But love was good; love was alright. Love was great, especially during the times of war. Lady Argent’s family was out on the frontlines too and she lost her mother to the Hales recently. Stiles remembered that day because that was the day he’d seen Allison grow from a girl to a woman… It was one of those days that made him want to accept Peter’s offer.

“I’m just saying, that he might prefer to have his way with people who are professionals,” Scott shrugged. “Like, most of the kings and queens before.”

“Not my parents,” Stiles snapped.

“Well… but they were…” his friend started, trailing off because even if he was the prince’s best friend, parent-talk was still sensitive, especially when Stiles was in such a situation. “They were special,” Scott finished in a whisper. “You definitely won’t have what they did with Peter.”

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as his headache arrived. He knew Scott’s words were true, in every aspect. He knew that Peter was doing this for power and the simplest way to get it was through marrying Stiles. But the prince also knew that Peter will need to touch him. It was tradition; the marriage wasn’t valid without it which was the most messed up thing. Clearly, someone wasn’t thinking this through at all back in the day.

A hand on his shoulder snapped Stiles out of his deep thoughts about strangling Peter with his bare hands. He looked at Scott with a heavy sigh.

“You still have a few days until the court moves to the Beacon Fortress,” the guard said and it didn’t make Stiles feel any better. Somehow, he didn’t have a good feeling about moving from their current capital. It symbolized safety to him, it was his home and not just because a rebel said it’s not safe, they will have to move the whole damned court. But maybe it was for the best, maybe with a new environment Stiles will be able to adapt to the changes a bit more.

He really was trying everything to keep himself together.

\--

The journey to the fortress was a few days long and Stiles was glad he didn’t have to meet Peter during that time. For that matter, he didn’t meet any of the Hales either. Their henchmen were around, but the Hales were probably busy in establishing the new regime that will come to the Stilinski Kingdom, well, soon to be called Hale Kingdom.

At the time Stiles and his father arrived to Beacon Fortress the wedding preparations were almost ready. The most surprising in that was that people were genuinely _happy_. Stiles had expected gloom would settle over them or a kind of murderous intent he was feeling deep in his gut but it wasn’t like that. People were calm, and most importantly, happy.

“They are simple people, son,” the king started at dinner that night when Stiles mentioned about the general happy mood of the fortress. “They don’t care about who’s the king as long as there’s peace and food on their table.” His voice was gentle, and it soothed Stiles like nothing could. “There’s going to be peace soon, and that was the biggest desire of people in the past five years… all thanks to you.”

The prince sighed, just staring at his plate for long minutes. He really tried to be happy for the people, and welcome peace, but he knew he’s not going to have peace. Not ever as long as Peter Hale is alive.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dub-con and drug use warning for this chapter!
> 
> Betaed by: Evy~

Stiles’ breath hitched as he realized what he was looking at in the mirror for a while now. It was his reflection, yes, but dressed in white. He was wearing a white, long sleeved tunic, with matching trousers and soft shoes. His hair and skin were scented as lavender from the bath he had taken earlier. He looked and smelled like a bride, and he hated it. Stiles was sure he’ll also forever hate the scent of lavender because it will remind him of this day; of the day when he became Peter Hale’s wife and gave up his right to the throne for him.

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?” a servant asked suddenly and Stiles jumped a little.

“Ah, uh…” he stuttered looking at her. “Yes, yes I was just uh…” the prince said, looking around in the room. The windows were adorned with white flowers and ribbons and all his servants were practically glowing in the kind of blush he was supposed to have. Stiles was supposed to have butterflies in his stomach and not knives; he was supposed to think about his wedding as something beautiful and not as something terrifying. It all descended on Stiles in that moment and when his servant handed him his wedding bouquet, he felt something crawl around his neck and start to strangle him.

“I need a minute…” he started, taking a deep breath as he was trying to fight against a panic attack.

“But Your Majesty, the wedding…” his servant tried, but Stiles shook his head vehemently, holding onto his flowers with a death grip.

“I said I need a god forsaken minute!” he yelled. His anger came through so much that it made everyone in the room jump, but he didn’t care. He needed to calm down before he meets Peter in the church of the fortress, he needed to get himself together. Stiles didn’t want to give the warlord the satisfaction of showing weakness.

The prince wasn’t sure what had happened the next few minutes because he was too busy with not choking on his own breath and calming down his beating heart. All he knew was that a gentle hand was trying to pry his fingers from the flowers he was holding.

“Father!” Stiles gasped, looking at the king. He didn’t even hear when he arrived or when he stepped to him. “When… did you…?” he asked out of breath.

“They came to me when they saw you’re not doing well.” King Stilinski answered quietly, putting down the flowers and placing a calming hand on his son’s back and Stiles’ knees almost gave out. His father then slowly helped him to sit down on the bed, sitting next to him and stroking his back like he did every time Stiles was having an attack as such. No herb or medicine or even spell could make him feel better at these times, it was only his father’s calm hands and presence which could make the panic gone.

“I’m fine, I just…” Stiles started but his voice was so weak he rather gave up talking for now. He just sighed, putting his arms around himself.

“It’s alright, son.” the king said, then pulled the boy to him with one arm. “No rush, just take your time.” It was actually working. Stiles ever so slowly caught his breath and his heart seemed to calm down too. He also didn’t want to choke on lavender anymore. Taking a deep breath he raised his head.

“I’m proud of you.” Stiles heard his father’s voice and he froze again. He slowly turned his gaze toward the king. His question must have been in his eyes because his father smiled at him and continued. “I really am.” he said. “What you’re doing is really brave. You took a chance, you… you sacrificed something for the country, for the people. Stiles, that’s how heroes are made.” King Stilinski smiled gently.

The prince’ lower lip trembled at those words as he shook his head.

“I’m not a hero, dad.” he said, looking down.

“You’re brave.” the king continued. “That’s the most important here, Stiles, and you’re brave. You could have run, you could have chosen to not take the offer, but you did. And you never had second thoughts.”

Once again, Stiles realized why his father was king. He could give people’s spirit back, he could fill them up again with hope and life and that was a skill the boy always adored. This time, his father had made him smile again, maybe the first time since these dark days.

“How would you know…” the prince smiled, looking down a bit embarrassed.

“Because I know my son.” King Stilinski smiled and placed a kiss on his son’s temple, stroking his arm reassuringly. “Now, walk down the aisle proud, with your head high because you’ve saved a lot of people, Stiles.”

The boy listened to his father’s words and it made him realize something. He was raised as a proud member of the Stilinski family who will take over the throne one day. Maybe this was his day. He’s not going to be king, but he’s going to be _married_ to the king. He did that to save their country, to spare the lives of innocent people and to bring back the peace to their lands. And he should be damn proud of that. Stiles sighed softly and reached for his father to hug him tightly.

In his father’s arms, despite the spirit he had just received he still wanted to ask the king to take him back home; to save him from Peter and from this marriage. He wanted to be a little kid again and hold the hand of his father and mother and not think about wars and warlords and death. But they were here now and Stiles had duties. People were counting on him and he couldn’t let them down, not anymore.

At his greatest relief his father decided to walk with him to the altar, even if Stiles told him not to.

“You don’t have to do this…” Stiles whispered as they were nearing the doors of the church. The prince knew how his father was thinking about this marriage and he didn’t want to make it harder on him. He didn’t want his father experiencing the feeling of giving his son away to someone like Peter Hale, who conquered their country and killed their people. But his father didn’t even want to hear about it.

“I really don’t want to give you to him, but I won’t let anyone else do it.” he answered in his reassuring voice and with a proud smile that made Stiles want to run back to his room and hide under the bed.

They entered the church and Stiles held his chin high as they were heading toward the altar. The place was just as full with flowers and ribbons as the room Stiles had prepared in. The guests looked excited, but Stiles wouldn’t know because he didn’t dare to look at any of them. He spotted Scott in the corner, but couldn’t meet his eyes. Somehow, the only person he was able to look at was Peter who was standing in front of the priest. He was wearing a dark shirt, and a dark, sleeveless tunic over it. He still had his sword by his side even in this situation. When the organ music started playing, he slowly turned to see his bride walk toward him.

At Peter’s gaze Stiles shivered. It was still cold and frightening just like the first time he was looking back into that blue gaze. But this time the boy discovered something else. Something that could be called _hunger_. Stiles had no idea why that word was the first thing that came into his mind as he was staring at the groom, but he wasn’t sure it was a good thing. His grip on his father’s arm tightened for a second. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be Peter Hale’s wife…

But it was too late to think about that because the next moment his father took his hand and ever so slowly held it out for his soon to be husband. Stiles swallowed, feeling his whole body break out in cold sweat as Peter put his smooth fingers around his and pulled him closer. Stiles’ father pat his shoulder on his way to his place during the ceremony and he felt his panic lick at the back of his mind again. He knew Peter could feel his shivering too and it made the whole situation worse. At this point Stiles was focusing on the priest and no one else, but he vaguely wondered how smooth and warm Peter’s hand was. It wasn’t a hand which was holding a sword and conquering nations, it was soft and very, very warm. Almost calmingly warm, and that was an alarming thought. Especially the moment when Peter decided to squeeze his fingers, making Stiles’ breath hitch.

Apparently it was time for their vows and the rings. Stiles turned toward Peter, mirroring his movements because in that moment he didn’t feel like himself; he felt like a shell. It made it easier to handle it all. He repeated the priest’s words; focusing somewhere next to Peter’s face and he hadn’t even remembered that they ever exchanged rings. But they did at one point, because when Peter reached out and cupped his cheek he could feel the cold metal against his skin and it made him wake up.

Stiles got back to his senses just in time for their kiss. He sucked in a sharp breath as he saw the man come closer and place his lips against his. The boy tensed up, expecting the ground to open up and swallow him but nothing like that happened. Peter indeed took his time with the kiss, but nothing really out of the ordinary happened. If you don’t count the crown prince getting married to a warlord. Really, nothing special here.

After the kiss the happily married couple was supposed to lead the jolly group of people to the great hall where the wedding reception will take place. Stiles didn’t want to, he just wanted to go back to his room and never come out. They were officially married and he’d signed the contract where he officially gave up his right to the throne for Peter.

The Hales were the royal family from this moment on and that shouldn’t make Stiles feel as miserable as he did. He was like a walking doll, letting Peter pull him after himself to the Great Hall. People were cheering for them and the tension of the day when Peter arrived to the old capital was nowhere to be found.

This wasn’t about their wedding, it was about the end of the war. It was about finally starting a new life, Stiles realized as he was walking behind Peter. Their hands were still attached and that made him unreasonably angry. Before he knew what he was doing he collected all his strength and pulled on the man’s hand to drag him next to him.

“We’re supposed to walk together!” he hissed at him and maybe the first time that day, he properly looked into Peter’s face. Just to find a genuinely surprised expression there.

“So you woke up. Just in time, _princess_.” the man commented as his lips pulled into that awful smirk Stiles wanted to cut wider. “You were this nervous to marry me?” he raised an eyebrow and Stiles shivered again, but not from fear this time. But from anger. It gave him strength to go on.

“I was terrified out of my mind, you asshole.” he snapped and bit the inside of his lower lip. Well, that wasn’t royal, polite or even clever. His life was safe for a few days, but he wasn’t sure if he’d soon be losing limbs or tongue if he speaks as such to Peter.

“Good.” the man answered, squeezing his hand tighter. “I want you and fear to get cozy from now on. You will be best friends.”

“You’re the worst human being I’ve ever met.” Stiles hissed and he mentally took the challenge Peter put him to. Apparently, the man was getting this sick pleasure out of his fear and the prince decided to make him damn _work_ for it.

The wedding reception was good for one thing: it drew Stiles’ attention away from that night. He watched knights compete along with guards and witnessed Scott proving how he’d make an amazing knight one day. People were laughing, dancing and Stiles spotted Her Grace Lydia Martin in the crowd and his heart just ached for her. They couldn’t talk because she seemed to hunt for her next husband after His Grace Jackson Whittemore’s unfortunate death. Stiles asked a lot about that incident, because it was one of those juicy gossips that ran around royal circles, but Lydia remained pretty secretive about it. Stiles was sure that the duke just slipped on his way down the stairs and broke his neck, it would suit him. The prince never liked him; he was too loud and too violent in the manner of tactics. He was a great and strong man, but something was lacking in him that made him appear worse in the prince’s eyes. Somewhere along the way the duke stopped caring about people. The only person who he cared for was himself, no matter what Lydia said.

Jackson put Lydia through many hardships and yet she was still defending him, she still stood by his side against the whole damned court. Stiles could never understand them, at all.

But it also didn’t stop him from having a huge crush on Her Grace. She was beautiful; her hair was red as strawberries, her lips pink like a flower and her green gaze was like the sea: drowning men one by one. There was this awful gossip about her that she was secretly a siren especially after her husband’s death, and no matter how silly that gossip was, Stiles almost believed it with the way Lydia was handling herself. She definitely had the attitude down and the prince wasn’t against dying in her arms. Especially not on the day of his wedding.

Stiles let out a sigh as he was thinking how he wanted to be Lydia’s next husband. She was the only one who could hold his attention long enough to plan a wedding with her, but for some reason she always kept refusing him. And look how it turned out…

“The redhead?” the prince heard Peter’s voice and it dragged him back to his reality. He turned his head to his ‘husband’ who was sitting next to him at the table.

“Excuse me?” Stiles asked, frowning.

“You’re staring at the redhead in the green gown for a while now. Stiles, do I have to get jealous?” the man asked in a low voice, reaching for his wineglass.

“The ‘redhead’ is Her Grace Lydia Martin, Duchess of the South Lands.” Stiles hissed, crossing his arms.

“She’s the infamous widow siren?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well isn’t that a surprise, she’s just as beautiful as the gossips describe.”

Stiles’ stomach sank at those words. He also didn’t like the way Peter was looking at Lydia. Calculating and hungry. The prince had seen men look at Lydia with eyes of a puppy or even a hungry dog; she just had that effect on them. But Peter’s blue glance was something way more dangerous and Stiles didn’t like it at all.

“Don’t you dare touch her.” he snarled in a voice that surprised him too. He was ready to take on Peter Hale head-on for Lydia, but he didn’t mind. She was one of those people he would sacrifice his life for without a second thought.

“Why would I do that when I have someone else to touch tonight?” Peter answered. “I hope they prepared you well.”

Well, that was indeed a sudden change of topic, it left Stiles speechless.

“I’m damn well prepared, you see!” he stuttered, but he felt his blush betray him. Of course he attended his teacher’s class about the topic, but it wasn’t anything like the real thing. Not that Stiles would know. He watched Peter call for another glass of wine before turning back to him.

“Don’t tell me the gossips about you are true too.” the man started, leaning closer. “That the crown prince is still a virgin.” his voice was low and teasing and Stiles swallowed audibly. He opened his mouth to say something, but the look on Peter’s face shut him up. The man already knew. Stiles expected some snarky remark or an insult, but instead Peter presented him a glass of wine.

“Drink with me.” he said. “To our wedding, _darling_.”

“I’d rather drink on you choking to death, _sweetheart_.” Stiles retorted and gulped down his first glass of wine that evening. For some reason, he didn’t want to drink, he didn’t want to lose himself and get a panic attack or worse. But he momentarily forgot about it that moment.

The taste of the sweet wine from their own highlands was giving the prince a slight remedy from his current issues. Maybe because it was his first drink that night it tasted sweeter than he was used to. But he welcomed it nonetheless. He drank without stopping, emptying his glass in no time, slamming it down on the table. The alcohol already filled him and sneaked through his lungs to his head and made the world grow darker, louder and still a better place than it currently was.

“Another!” Stiles held his cup up to his servant but the next moment someone tugged on his wrist.

“One glass for tonight is more than enough.” Peter said, sending the servant with the wine away. The prince frowned at him for a second in utter disbelief.

“Are you afraid I won’t be able to perform or what?” he asked, trying to free his wrist from Peter’s grip.

“It’s about you doing as you’re told.” the man answered, squeezing him and Stiles refused to groan from pain.

“How dare you order me as such, I am your wife, I’ll be the queen of this country!” the boy hissed, pulling at his hand. He knew he was pushing Peter’s limits, but despite he accepted his marriage offer, he’s not going to be his slave. “I’m not sure what ‘wife’ means in your primitive culture, but here it sure doesn’t mean ‘servant’!”

“But you still belong to me from now on.” Peter hissed back, yanking the boy. “I think you had enough for tonight.”

“You’re sending me away from my own… from _our_ own wedding reception?!” Stiles asked because it was less disturbing to ask about than the other thing. Since when did Peter think he _owned_ him?!

“I do how I please, now… If you could escort the prince to our chambers.” Peter said, nodding at the guard standing by them. Stiles gave out a frustrated noise and looked around for Scott in the crowd. He knew it was a party and there were guards everywhere but they were all Peter’s men. The only one Stiles had here as a guard was Scott… and now he was nowhere to be found! Just his luck.

“No, no I stay, I want to stay!” Stiles shouted. He didn’t want to leave; he didn’t want to do anything he just wanted this nightmare to end. He didn’t want to rush into the night.

“Don’t worry, my dear, I’ll follow soon enough.” Peter finally let him go and the prince jumped from his chair. He was ready to punch Peter in the face but the guard grabbed his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on me!” the boy shouted. “I know where my chambers are, I’ll walk by myself!” he stomped like a little kid and stormed out. He vaguely wondered if he should say his goodnight to the crowds but he wasn’t in the mood for it. He wasn’t in the mood for any of this, he just wanted to disappear. He wanted to be that second stable boy who tended the horses and his biggest problem be if they should make carrot or potato soup that night.

The prince’s steps were fast as he was heading to his room, mostly because he started being dizzy. The guard behind him just made him more intimidated and annoyed at Peter. He wasn’t his slave or prisoner, he was his damn wife and Stiles swore he will show Peter the difference. But for now he wanted to be alone, at least for a little while.

Stiles stumbled into the room, shutting the door and leaning heavily against it to catch his breath. Yes he was walking fast but not this fast. He could tell that something was wrong. He thought it was the wine that put him in such a state and he hated it. His body was fighting against him, not moving as he wanted it to, and his vision doubled. But even through his hazy sight he could still stare in horror at the room he was in.

Flowers decorated the windows, the tables, the mirror and white rose petals were covering the floor and the bed. It was a lovely room for a married couple’s first night and it was supposed to make him happy and feel romantic. But all it did was fuel his desperation.

With a loud war cry Stiles started to tear down the ribbons and flowers from the walls and windows, feeling a sick satisfaction as they landed ruined at his feet. He shouted at them and stomped on them, imagining Peter’s head under his feet and watched the fragile flowers be destroyed by his utterly childish way to release his anger toward his _adored husband_. He turned to the bed, dragging the covers off, swiping down the petals from the sheets and tearing up a pillow. Now there were petals and feathers and destroyed flowers everywhere and Stiles still didn’t feel any better. But he refused to cry, he couldn’t cry. He was challenged by Peter and he didn’t want to lose.

Stiles collapsed next to the bed, leaning heavily against it. His body gave up, not wanting to do anything anymore after this private hurricane performance. He felt more tired than he’d ever been before in his life, but at the same time his heart didn’t want to calm down. Stiles groaned out of discomfort but he was too tired to get his arms moving to take his tunic off. Despite the fever he felt spreading from his chest, and the uncomfortable roughness of the cold floor he was sitting on, he still managed to close his eyes and daze off.

\--

He dreamed of deserted islands filled with white roses and ribbons, he dreamed of fire and deserts and wolves and he was just so, so afraid. He wanted to hold his father’s hand, he wanted to go and hide in the towers, and he wanted to climb down the ivy walls of the castle like he did oh so many times before. He wanted to look into the eyes of his mother once again and ask her if she’s happy…

That thought jerked Stiles out of his slumber; not even his dreams were that comforting. Though, he was still dreaming, because he couldn’t open his eyes. It was still hot and his throat was dry as sandpaper. He swallowed to wet it, but it did so little and he let out a low whimper. He wanted to call out to someone to bring water but when he opened his mouth something extremely cold touched his lips. Stiles gasped out and snapped his head away from the ice cold sensation. His head felt so full and heavy, he was groggy and he still wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. The sounds were strange and his body burned feverishly hot but his bones didn’t have the usual pain in them, indeed as if his body was waiting for something.

Then that something happened. Stiles felt pressure against his lower lip but it wasn’t cold; it was warm and felt so nice. Calming. It was something Stiles didn’t know he needed. He let out a relieved sigh and parted his lips, just to have them covered with something warm. Another pair of lips. But Stiles was more occupied with the water they brought. He felt the liquid pour into his mouth and he gulped it down and it felt like _paradise_. His body didn’t feel that heavy anymore, but he was still in a half dreaming state and his eyelids were still as heavy as if they were made from lead.

Stiles gave a moan and tilted his head to get more of that sweet sensation and taste. Something warm pressed against his cheek and he realized it was a hand. Someone was cupping his face and he didn’t mind it. He also didn’t mind that tongue licking against his own. He had stolen a few kisses before, even from Lydia, but they never felt like this. Something dark and sinful but still a sensation Stiles felt he could never have enough of. He moaned into it, welcoming its sweet distraction with hungry desperation; he felt like he could get lost in the kiss and he wanted to.

He only realized he was out of air when those lips slipped to his chin, laying a trace of open mouthed kisses along his jaw, then down his neck. Stiles gasped for air and a moment later his body jerked from pleasure. That spot on his neck, yes that was the spot. It was a spot he didn’t know he had before and now it’s being sucked on hard and sensual and Stiles let out a desperate moan.

A hand slipped on his nape and into his hair and Stiles hadn’t had any idea how a touch so simple could make him shiver from need. He turned his head to kiss the arm which was holding him, inviting it back so he could kiss those fingers one by one. Apparently, it worked because he felt his cheek being cupped again and he nuzzled into that palm, laying a bit shy, light kisses on smooth and warm skin. Somewhere deep in his mind he realized he knew this hand. It was a mature hand, big and strong, but smooth… as if he would have never held a sword in his life, but he had. He had because he rebelled and conquered their country. He stripped him down from his royal right from the throne and called him his and thought Stiles belonged to him like one of his horses and he thought too much of himself and brought peace but he caused the war in the first place.

Peter Hale.

Stiles forced himself to finally open his eyes and who he saw confirmed it. He wanted to scoff but it came out as a _moan_. Something wasn’t right here and Stiles hated it. He let his guard down, he wasn’t prepared for this.

The next moment he felt Peter slipping his hands under his knees and around his torso and lifting him up, laying him down on the bed. Such a soft bed, Stiles realized. He turned his head to nuzzle into the sheets, scented like rose and soap and they were just so _soft_. But wait, he was getting off track here and he got reminded of it when Peter appeared hovering over him. Stiles squirmed at how damn hot the man’s body was even through their clothes and how close Peter had gotten.

“How do you feel?” Peter asked, but Stiles was too busy looking around their room. Yes, it was still their chamber which he destroyed. It wasn’t a dream, it was really happening. “Stiles, my prince, how do you feel?” Peter asked again. His words were nice but his tone was having a mocking undertone which Stiles didn’t miss. The prince swallowed, licking his lips and turned his hazy gaze toward his husband.

“Did you drug me…?” he asked, finally finding the strength to speak. His voice was rough and weak and he hated it. Peter didn’t answer but that awfully pleased smile on his face confirmed Stiles’ doubts.

“It will make you more relaxed.” he answered at last, running a finger over Stiles’ neck, watching with glee as the boy shivered. “You felt it, didn’t you? You were ready to open up to me just now.”

“No…” Stiles shook his head, because it wasn’t true. It was just the drugs. He would never ‘open up’ to Peter Hale of all people. Yet, he knew they will have to do this, it was tradition and the marriage wasn’t valid without the wedding night and they will check the sheets, and Stiles heard it so many times before but still, he couldn’t accept it. He didn’t want his first time to go like this. “I’m not ready, stop, I’m not ready!” he wheezed when he felt Peter pulling his tunic over his head. It felt like he was wearing less and less protection against something evil and dangerous.

“You’re more than ready, Stiles.” he heard Peter’s voice as he took his shirt off too. For a second, Stiles realized how built the man was and finally he could believe he was able to win wars. But something still bugged him about the perfect skin of Peter. His torso was of a great warrior’s, but something was missing. It wasn’t the whole picture. Stiles knew he was seeing something under the man’s skin but the drugs prevented him to think of anything other than… some other things. He wanted to go back to sleep, to be unconscious, he wasn’t sure he needed this experience at all.

He felt himself panic a little when Peter pulled him closer and started untying his trousers.

“Give me a second, just- just give me a second, Peter!” the boy gasped, squirming a little. He didn’t need a second, he needed a lifetime, he needed… a dagger. Stiles blinked when he realized that he was staring at a dagger hiding under the pillow he hadn’t torn apart. He wasn’t sure how it had gotten there or who put it there and why. He didn’t even think when he reached out for it. Stiles grabbed the dagger and slashed toward Peter without thinking about any of the consequences or of what he was doing exactly. He was desperate and scared and he wanted this to end.

He learned sword fighting, but he still cried out scared when he felt the dagger’s edge meet skin. The boy covered his face, not wanting to see all that blood that might result in him cutting the throat of Peter Hale.

But he didn’t feel warm liquid covering his skin or the choking of a dying person. Instead, Peter just laughed softly. Did Stiles miss? But he clearly felt the knife against Peter’s skin. His curiosity got the best of him and he opened his eyes, peeking out over his arms, still holding the dagger tight in his hand.

“So you two have met.” Peter smirked down at him, and he so didn’t look injured or even annoyed.

“What…?” Stiles asked, feeling a bit dizzy staring at Peter. The man then reached out to grab Stiles’ hand which held the weapon and pulled the blade to his throat again. The boy gasped and tried to free his hand but it was impossible to break Peter’s iron grip. Though, Stiles stopped everything when he saw the dagger slide along Peter’s skin without hurting it. The blade didn’t pierce his skin. It didn’t hurt him. “It… it can’t cut you.” The boy stuttered in disbelief and he felt something break inside him.

“She is my most loyal companion. It slays my enemies and protects me.” Peter explained fondly as he slowly pried Stiles’ weak fingers of the hilt of the weapon. “Do you want to be an enemy of mine, Stiles?” he asked, turning the dagger toward the boy.

Stiles’ whole body tensed up in fear as he felt the blade sink slightly into his skin by his neck. It couldn’t hurt Peter, but he was sure it would cut him open with one smooth slice. The man kept the dagger by his throat, just looking at him, saying nothing. Stiles let out a shaky breath, staring back at Peter. He knew what he wanted. He wanted him to _beg for his life_ and Stiles wanted to. But he was raised as the proud prince of the StilinskiKingdom and they are not begging to anyone. Not even for their lives.

After a minute of tense silence Peter pulled back and slipped the dagger under the pillow, back to where Stiles had found it. The boy sighed in relief, closing his eyes, causing his unshed tears to roll down to his temples. He did nothing as he felt his trousers being slipped down his legs.

“Why… why don’t you just kill me now?” he asked quietly, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“It would be too easy.” Peter answered, leaning over him to place a kiss on his forehead. The man’s actions were always confusing but this one was straight out strange. It was a gesture so alien from him it made Stiles freeze. He refused to give in to the feeling of serenity that wanted to sooth his body in that moment. He knew it was just him wanting to give up, to give in to Peter, to survive. But then he’ll lose the challenge.

“Stiles, believe it or not, I’d like this night to end well.”

“For both of us?” Stiles couldn’t help asking back. It just made Peter laugh a little and Stiles felt a hand against his chest. Peter’s fingers were warmer than before as they fondled him, brushing over his nipple. The boy gasped in surprise as his body jumped from the sudden jolt of pleasure he’d felt. Was he really this sensitive?

“Just relax, I actually don’t intend to hurt you. Not like this.” Peter’s velvet voice poured over him like honey and Stiles bit his lower lip to keep his head straight. Every touch of the man, and every word of his was soft and caressing and something he would have never imagined before coming from him and it was really confusing. Were they lies? Definitely lies. And Stiles wanted to believe, because it was easier that way.

But his mind short-circuited when Peter reached out and wrapped his fingers around his already hardened flesh. Stiles grabbed onto the sheets, arching his back and vaguely wondered since when Peter had gotten between his legs. He didn’t even have time to complain or anything as the man squeezed him just the right amount and stroked him with slow, long movements.

Stiles parted his lips to let go of a shameless, needy moan and he hated it. Why couldn’t they just get it over with, why wouldn’t Peter just fuck him, he didn’t need this… he didn’t need the lie that they are going to work it out. Because they won’t. Their marriage is fake; it was only for the sake of the country.

When the boy felt he was going to lose it, as a last resort, he reached out to grab Peter’s wrist to stop the stroking, but it did nothing. He was still writhing and squirming and enjoying what Peter was doing. His body was betraying him. Stiles came with a loud cry, feeling the last of his strength leave his body, but in those few seconds he was feeling good. He could pretend everything was great, and he wanted all of this, and it was fine.

When Stiles came back to reality, his body was heavier than ever and his brain was refusing to work properly. He was completely under Peter’s will and it was really, really scary. The boy swallowed, opened his eyes and took a shaky breath. A moment later Peter leaned over him, kissing his lips.

“Was that so awful?” he asked with that overly confident smirk on his stupid face, his goatee brushing against Stiles’ chin.

“Yes.” Stiles said in a low, rough voice, still out of breath. Trying to refuse every comfort Peter might offer, but it was so hard when he was so desperate for it.

“At least it got you nice and relaxed.” the man remarked and slipped his hand under his waist to flip him over to his stomach. Stiles whimpered as slight dizziness hit him, with a lick of fear.

“Will it hurt?” he asked, turning his head to try and look at Peter over his shoulder.

“Yes.” The man answered as he retrieved something from the nightstand.

“Wha… aren’t you supposed to say no?” Stiles gasped, grabbing onto the sheets nervously. “Aren’t you supposed to calm me down saying it won’t hurt?!”

“Do you want me to?” Peter asked, coming closer again and Stiles realized what he’d just said. He kept refusing Peter’s so called kindness and now he was the one demanding it. He couldn’t have felt more embarrassed. “Do you want me to say no, it won’t hurt? That it will be romantic and gentle, because it’s your first time?”

“No!” Stiles shook his head. “Just do it already, I don’t- I don’t care anymore!” he hissed, burying his face into the sheets. He expected Peter to laugh at him, but he didn’t hear any laughter. Instead Peter pulled him up on all fours and spread his legs a bit apart.

The first slippery finger wasn’t that painful. It was rather invasive for Stiles’ taste but he knew it will just get worse from there. He knew the process that’s coming from his teacher, but he wished he could have read more about it. He focused more on female and male intercourse rather than male and male. It’s not like it didn’t interest him, but with Her Grace Lydia being the subject of his adoration he thought he will have more use of that kind of information. And now, look at him.

“Ow…!” he winced when he felt the second finger. Peter didn’t warn him about that. “Gently!” he called out before he caught himself. The man slipped his fingers deeper but also covered his back with his body, his breath ghosting over Stiles’ ear.

“Do you really want me to be gentle?” he asked in a low tone which made Stiles shiver. And not from fear. “Don’t you want me to be rough so you could hate this?”

“I…” Stiles swallowed.

“What do you want, Stiles?” Peter asked nuzzling into his ear, making him whimper.

“I just want you to stop messing with me.” he choked out as the man kissed into his neck, his stubble brushing against his too sensitive skin. He also wanted Peter to kiss him, suddenly. Which was such a sick thought. He wanted that kiss to pretend that he wanted it. To pretend they aren’t doing this out of tradition… Apparently, Peter had the same idea, because he moved closer and leaned over Stiles’ shoulder to place a kiss on his lips. And Stiles returned it. Peter’s kiss was gentle and warm, and Stiles could pretend it’s not him. It was calming and he needed to calm down right now. He moaned as Peter licked inside his mouth, rubbing his tongue against his and swiping over the roof of his mouth.

“You’re prepared.” he heard Peter breathe against his lips. Then he retrieved his fingers and found his place between Stiles’ spread legs. The prince inhaled a sharp breath when he felt something thick and heavy slide along his butt cheeks. Peter took the jar he brought again and quickly coated himself with lubrication, despite Stiles being already prepared.

Peter was definitely bigger than his fingers and Stiles thought he was going to die when he entered him. He squirmed away but Peter’s firm fingers were holding him at place with an iron grip. The boy shivered, trying to spread his legs to make the discomfort go away, but it did so little.

“So tight for me.” Peter’s whisper was like a whiplash. “You’re really a virgin.”

“Not… not anymore…” Stiles panted, leaning his forehead down at his arms. His whole body trembled the time the man slipped his whole length into him. The boy groaned, trying to breathe but it seemed a difficult task. Peter’s presence was overwhelming him in various ways and he was getting nervous again. Especially when Peter pulled out, just to thrust back in.

“Yes…” Peter swallowed, sliding a hand around Stiles’ chest and pulling him up to his body, making him sit on his cock. “You’re mine now.” The boy cried out in pain, throwing his head back as Peter rolled his hips, thrusting up into him. “I took you in every possible way, Stiles. You’re mine now.”

Peter’s voice was terrifying, but what he said was even more so. Yet, Stiles couldn’t find the energy to fight anymore. Especially not when the man hit something inside him that made his whole body jump from pleasure.

“Oh? Did that feel good?” Peter smiled against his ear, sliding a hand on his throat.

“No…” Stiles whimpered but his husband snapped his hips like that again and he couldn’t contain his cry. “Oh, gods…” he gasped, grabbing onto Peter’s arm. His body was too honest and he hated it. He wanted to pretend he didn’t like this at all, that it hurts more than it feels good… but fate couldn’t even give that to him.

“It will be better if you touch yourself.” Peter told him, sounding out of breath already. He set a steady rhythm, thrusting up into Stiles’ and with every slide he hit a spot that shot a jolt of pleasure through Stiles’ body. He started seeing stars and started losing his mind. “Touch it if you want.” Peter spoke and without giving permission to his own hand, Stiles’ fingers grabbed his hardness again and started pumping. It really got better; and the prince couldn’t stop his moans. He arched his back, rolling his hips in time with Peter’s as he was riding toward his own orgasm on his cock. Peter was making him come for the second time that night, buried inside him to the hilt. Stiles’ toes curled and his limbs tensed when his release hit him, helping himself through the waves of whiteness, shamelessly moaning louder than before.

Before he could slump down in a liquid mess because his bones felt like they were melted, Peter pushed him down on the mattress again. Stiles gave a slight, surprised noise and winced when he felt Peter’s erratic, wild pounding into him. It scared him even in the daze of his release because the power the man was working with was alarming. Stiles could feel the strength of a soldier and the unpredictable nature of a madman. It wasn’t a good combination and he was afraid that Peter will break him then and there.

“Peter..!” he called him. Maybe he imagined that slight twitch in Peter’s movements, maybe he just wanted it to be there, but the next moment the man leaned his forehead down on his shoulder blades, holding tightly to his hips and thrusting deeper and rougher than before.

Peter came loud and violent and as he was rolling his hips against Stiles, reaching through his orgasm, it actually hurt. The boy held his breath, fisting the sheets tightly and closing his eyes so strong that tears were rolling down his cheeks again. It lasted almost an eternity and Stiles held his breath the whole time.

“Are we done…?” the prince asked in a hoarse voice when he felt Peter finally slip out of him and collapse on the bed too. Somehow it was satisfying to see the man just as out of breath as Stiles was. Sweat was breaking on his forehead and the boy noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

“Maybe.” Peter answered and Stiles wanted to hit him.

“Give me a straight answer.” he groaned against the sheets, sniffing a little. “Are we done? The marriage is valid, it’s done, they will check me and they will know it’s done. We did it, let it be over…”

“The drug will last the whole night.” Peter interrupted Stiles’ rambling. He pushed himself up on his elbows to look at the boy. “There’s your answer.” he added, cocking up his chin lightly.

Stiles eyed him, trying to see if he’s serious, but he probably was. It wasn’t good news. He just whimpered, shaking his head and trying to hide in the sheets, but of course it was impossible. As he shifted a little he could feel Peter’s seed leak out of him and he twitched, remembering that this isn’t how he wanted his first time to go at all.

“Just give me a moment…” he muttered, closing his eyes to catch some rest before Peter decided to do it again. “Just a moment…” Stiles muttered and the next second he was already sleeping.

And Peter didn’t wake him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual Peter shenanigans, also I chose to call Stiles 'queen' in this. Since he is married to the king. Yes. :3
> 
> Betaed by Evy~

Peter was eying the ring on his finger with utter disgust. It was cold and heavy and smelled too coppery, just like blood, despite it was made of pure gold. It seemed like it was glowing in the moonlight which broke through the curtains onto his wedding bed. The moon painted everything blue and black and the wilting white roses were a mocking imitation of the stars outside in the dark blue sky. Peter looked around the room with a snort. It indeed was an accurate representation of how messed up these times were. When he had to marry little boys and take their virginity to be king.

But he had to do what had to be done; there was no working around it. And maybe he enjoyed the squirming of the little prince too, who wasn’t actually that little. No, Prince Stiles was on the threshold of turning into a man if he hadn’t already. Peter had seen his eyes and they were not the eyes of a boy; Stiles looked at him like a man who wanted to challenge him. Maybe that’s why he wanted to make him suffer a bit more than he originally intended. No one challenges him. No men, no kings, no gods. Not anymore.

The man slowly reached for his dagger as he turned his attention back to the sleeping prince next to him. His dream wasn’t peaceful; he was shivering and the blush of his fever was tainting his cheeks. His face was still messy from the tears he shed because of Peter and the man couldn’t help feeling satisfaction over them. Tears of fear, and pain were a thing that made him go on. Tears reminded him why he was doing this and why he was in bed with Prince Stiles.

Queen Stiles Stilinski.

Stiles.

“His Majesty, the King Peter Hale.” Peter muttered to himself then with a small smirk. In the morning the old king will hand his crown and rights over to him. He has reached his goal, finally. Now, no one will dare to hurt him or his family. He will be the most powerful man in the country. He already was. Conquering the rest of the territories will be a piece of cake with the king’s armies. At least something good came out of this silly wedding. It was just one of the ways to get to the throne, though really not as satisfying as slicing the king’s guts open in the throne room.

He was dreaming of that moment ever since he decided to throw over the whole kingdom. Seeing the king suffer just like he did.

That thought made Peter realize he can still make the king suffer just like he did and turned his gaze to the prince… queen sleeping next to him. He was naked and defenseless and his pale skin was asking to be cut open and be tainted with the dark blood from his own veins. Peter already imagined it and gave a shivering sigh. The pleasures of the flesh didn’t really interest him, but the pain of the flesh did. He didn’t like touching others, only if it resulted in someone being dead or injured. That’s why he was extremely annoyed by this so called wedding night and by the duties he had to tend to. But they were over it, the sheets were tainted and the virgin was no longer a virgin. And if he had to be honest with himself, he was surprised how easily he’d gotten in the mood. Maybe the drug he gave the prince had an effect on him too, or it could have been the fact of ruining something pure. Either way, Peter enjoyed the night more than he first thought he will.

Though, he had no use of Stiles anymore, he wondered as he lightly ran the blade over the boy’s back. He stopped right where he could stab through his heart. Peter imagined the blood, the dying cry and the face of the king when he would discover his son’s cold body on the bed. He should deserve it. King Stilinski was responsible for all of this and taking away his son would serve him justice.

When Peter decided to drive the dagger through Stiles’ body, he realized his eyes were half open. He was looking at him. Peter expected fear in that gaze but what greeted him was far from it. It was the promise of _revenge_. Stiles on his death bed swore revenge against him. Peter had seen this expression before on so many men and women, but this was the first time he felt something move inside him. Was it fear? Was it _hope_? Whatever it was it made him draw back his weapon as his lips pulled into an obsessed smirk.

He decided to give Stiles a chance. After all, killing him wouldn’t be as satisfying if he wasn’t broken before. Why kill one of his toys when he can have fun breaking them? And Stiles was one of his most precious possessions to break.

\--

The first thing Stiles realized was that awful headache that stabbed at his temple. Groaning from pain, he tried to move and hissed… of pain again. He was sure this is exactly how deceased souls wake up in Hell too. As he slowly turned on his other side to not go blind from the light of the sun, he spotted Scott sitting next to his bed. The guard just popped a grape into his mouth from the tray of fruits and bread which was prepared for the prince.

“That’s a royal grape!” Stiles groaned out loud, reaching out to hit Scott’s arm. In any other case he wouldn’t have minded Scott taking his share of his own breakfast but this time Stiles was really angry at him. Scott jumped and blinked at his prince a bit alarmed.

“Sorry, I was just…” he started, but as he was watching as Stiles buried his aching head into the pillows, he leaned closer a bit concerned. “I… guess it wasn’t exactly a good night.” Scott tried to just meet his prince’s annoyed gaze.

“It was horrible.” Stiles hissed, rubbing his forehead to try and make the headache go away. “Where were you, I needed you! I was assaulted…!”

“But… you told me to tend to my own business.” Scott blinked.

“I did?” Stiles frowned. “Personally?”

“No, one of the servants told me you sent them and that you… said I’m free… for the night.” Scott muttered, then realized that he must have been lied to. Probably Peter sent the servant to separate them for the night.

Stiles still wasn’t impressed with Scott. He could barely believe that the captain of his personal guards was an empty headed incompetent idiot… Alright, not really, but he wanted to take his anger out on the nearest thing or person and Scott had the bad luck to be it. Scott was actually the most loyal of his guards and the only person Stiles trusted with his life without any question.

“Are you alright though?” Scott asked, concerned as he nudged the tray with the breakfast closer to the bed. Stiles sighed and pushed himself in a sitting position and his guard put the tray over his lap. “Did he hurt you?”

The concern in Scott’s voice made Stiles freeze as he was reaching for his water cup. It made him remember the night before, and fairly, he didn’t want to remember. Not ever.

“I’m still alive.” He answered with a shrug, not wanting to elaborate on the happenings of last night. “That’s a plus, I guess.” he sighed and handed Scott the grapes.

“Did he…” the guard started and Stiles almost threw the jar of honey at him from his tray.

“Yes he did, now if you would just stop, Scott, I’d really appreciate it!” he said a bit louder than necessary. “Time for you to talk, what happened, did I miss anything?”

Scott just sighed and took another grape and started telling about the night. Apparently, the rest of the Hales had arrived, which included Derek and Cora. They didn’t seem all that demonic, according to Scott, and Cora Hale definitely was prettier than a witch. But then again, who knew. Stiles was listening, sometimes throwing in a comment with a full mouth. There was a time when his father was trying to teach him manners, but when it seemed like an impossible task he had stopped. Some even said Stiles was the most misbehaving prince in the last fifty years and the boy was damn proud of that.

“And, yeah, they’re signing the papers now.” Scott finished.

“What papers?” the prince frowned, leaning back against the pillows when he felt like he couldn’t eat anymore. He was already glad his appetite didn’t seem to decrease because of his current situation.

“The papers… you know. To declare Peter as the new king.” Scott sighed, and looked over to Stiles. The boy gnawed at his lower lip nervously.

“But it’s not official until the coronation.” he muttered.

“Which will be this afternoon.” Scott nodded. “Then… they say that he’s going to send King Stilinski, uh, the old king back to the old castle.” he added, eying Stiles warily and the prince snapped his head to him.

“What!?” Stiles gasped, then attempted to get out of bed. The moment he put his weight on his legs they gave out and he collapsed on the floor not even a little elegantly. A burning pain shot up his spine, reminding him of the night before once again and he gave a frustrated groan. Scott reached for him to help the prince up from the floor but he batted his hand away, he will stand alone even if it kills him.

The urgent need to talk to his father, or with Peter, or to anyone finally made him get back his strength. He barked for his dressing servant even if he wanted to have a nice warm bath, but there were more urgent matters.

Stiles was still tying the belt of his tunic as he ran to the king’s study with Scott at his heels.

“Wait, dad!” the prince started as he barged in without knocking. The guard didn’t stop him but that didn’t mean he should be rude. The boy didn’t actually care at that point.

“Son?” King Stilinski looked up from the desk with the royal seal in his hand. He just validated the contract between him and Peter, who was sitting at the desk across from him. They weren’t alone; others were standing around them and Stiles spotted Derek Hale and a few dukes and knights loyal to Peter. There was no one there who was still loyal to the old king and it made the boy want to spit all of them in the eye. Peter turned his head toward him, actually pretty surprised that Stiles was there.

“What about your manners, Stiles?” the old king scolded the prince and the boy’s heart almost broke. That question reminded him of the times when he was still just a little boy.

“Indeed, Stiles. Just because you’re queen now it doesn’t mean you should act as you please.” Peter said, standing up from his chair to go and greet his wife. But Stiles just shook his head and shoved Peter back. The man just chuckled too amused for Stiles’ taste, but he tried to steady his voice as he addressed him.

“Is it true?!” he asked, his hands balled into fists by his side. His glare did everything to pierce through Peter’s skull. “Is it true that you’re going to send my father away?!”

“Stiles…” It wasn’t Peter who talked next, but the old king. He got on his feet too, walking to his son. “Calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down! He can’t do this, _you_ can’t do this!” Stiles shouted taking a step back and pointing at Peter.

“I have a feeling you forgot that, yes, yes I can do this. I can do whatever I want.” the man said stepping closer. His tone was intimidating and Stiles swallowed audibly but didn’t back away. “And if I want the old king to rot away in the old capital then I’ll—“ but he couldn’t finish his sentence because his loved wife’s fist met his jaw.

Stiles put every bit of his strength into that punch and he knew his knuckles will hurt for days after it, but he didn’t care. Peter deserved it. No one should talk like that about his father. Not even the so called _king_. The silence that followed the hit was absolutely deafening, but nothing cut more into Stiles’ gut than the glare of Peter.

The man was ready to choke him then and there and Stiles knew why. It’s not because his assault hurt him that much, but because he dared to question him in front of others. Stiles could spot his father rubbing the bridge of his nose nervously.

“I expect you to leave the fortress in an hour, alluding to your poor health.” Peter spoke softly to the old king, yet his voice still had an awfully sharp edge. “And you…” he turned to Stiles, stroking his cheek with the back of his knuckles and the boy still winced at his touch. “I expect you to arrive at the coronation ceremony in time. I’ll deal with you after.”

Then he motioned the gentlemen in the room and left with the contract in his hand. Stiles watched that stupid piece of paper which was the proof that it was indeed official: Peter Hale was the new king. When Scott closed the door Stiles stepped to his father and hugged him tightly, thinking if he can hug him strong enough he won’t have to leave.

“I’m going to talk to him, I’ll convince him to let you stay. You can’t leave!” he rambled into his shoulder, squeezing his shoulders.

“Stiles…” the king started, placing his hand on the back of his son’s head.

“He’ll listen to me, I’m the queen now, he’ll listen to me…!”

“Stiles.”

“Just don’t leave, I’ll try to do anything to—“

“Stiles!” the king said a bit louder, finally making his son stop his nervous rambling. “Right now he’s like a drunk man, not listening to reason. He became powerful and…”

“No, dad no…”

“Listen to me!” the old king shook his son a little to make him listen. “This is for the best. He’s just sending me away. I’m more worried about you.” he said, looking Stiles all over. “He could hurt you more than he could hurt me.” he sighed. “How was last night?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Stiles quickly said, flailing his hand to even shoo away the memories of that awful night. He also hated how everyone seemed to be too occupied with his wedding night. “I’ll be fine, but-“

“There is no but.” the old king stated. Because for Stiles his father was still the king. “These are our winds now and we must adjust our sails. He is dangerous and I just want the best for you.”

Stiles bit his lower lip looking down. He knew his father was right, that if Peter ordered something then it had to be done. But why this. Why his father. Without him there will be only Scott and a few servants he knew and that scared him a lot. He opened his mouth, he wanted to say he was scared, but the worried look of his father made him shut up. So he just nodded. He didn’t want to let him go even more troubled.

“I’m still proud of you son.” the king said, pulling Stiles into his arms once again. “Keep being the strong and proud son I raised.” he added at last with a soft smile and Stiles’ lips quivered, but he nodded at last and let his father go to prepare for his departure.

Scott let Stiles have a little breather, but because it was indeed the first day of the HaleKingdom the Queen had duties to attend. Therefore his guard dragged him back to his room for check-up first of all things. Because not just the sheets needed to be verified but the wife himself too, for Stiles’ greatest annoyance. Everything and everyone kept reminding him how he’d indeed gotten married the day before. The one making sure he was ‘alright’ was Scott’s mother, Lady McCall and Stiles couldn’t be happier about it. She also checked if their new queen is doing fine and well, despite the circumstances and her presence calmed Stiles down a bit after that awful scene in his father’s office. He was always nervous around doctors and nurses except her, so he was really great even Peter’s men trusted her opinions.

“Thank you, I really appreciate this.” Stiles sighed when he finally put his clothes back on.

“You have no idea how many other nurses wanted this job, if it wasn’t for Scott someone else would have been the lucky one. It’s awful what they would do for the juicy gossips.” the lady chuckled as she cleaned her hands in the basin.

“Yes, that’s really reassuring to hear. That all the nurses were curios my abused state, I mean… to the gods old and new!” Stiles snorted and he vaguely noted that things might not be that awful if he could still joke around. He stood from his bed and walked to the window just to see his father and his suite leave the gates. His chest tightened again, knowing it might be years until he sees his father again.

“Don’t worry for him. I’ll go back to the old capital to take care of him.” Lady McCall started in a soft voice and the queen turned back to her.

“Please do.” he said just as softly and maybe, just maybe felt a bit better about the situation. Knowing that Lady McCall will be there for his father was a reassuring thought.

“You can’t go in!” came Scott’s voice from the door and both of them turned toward the intruder. A dark skinned stranger entered the room. His dark brown cowl and his warm smile stroke Stiles as ‘trustworthy’.  He seemed like a monk. The whole man radiated the wisdom of a teacher and that alone made the boy act a bit calmer than he expected from himself. He parted his lips to ask what the hell he’s thinking but Lady McCall was faster.

“Excuse me, but this is a private examination of the queen.” she started and walked up to the stranger. “How dare you barge in like that?” she asked then tilted her head toward Scott who was standing by the door. “And why did you let him in!?”

“I was just- “ Scott started, already annoyed by how today was turning out for him. “He barged in without asking.”

“I apologize if I was rude, but I also need to talk to the queen.” the stranger smiled, turning to Scott, then back to Stiles and the nurse. “Your Majesty, my name is Deaton. I’m… an emissary of the Hale family. And if you may let me, I’d like to have my own look at you.”

“What?!” Everyone in the room gasped, though for different reasons.

“No way!” Lady McCall started, shaking her head. “I did my work pretty thoroughly and if that’s not enough for the Hale dogs then I’m sorry. The queen’s been… he’s done his duties well and there won’t be more examination necessary.”

Stiles swore in that moment that if he weren’t married he would ask for Lady McCall’s hand in marriage.

“I’m not curious about his duties.” Professor Deaton shook his head a little, smiling as he kept his eyes on Stiles. “My… curiosity lies somewhere different.” he said, straightening his back. “Then let me ask this… was there anything unusual last night? Did His Majesty mark you in any different way?”

“’The hell are you talking about!?” Stiles frowned heavily at the strange man. Marking?! “Do you want to know if he hurt me?” he asked stepping closer to the emissary. The man didn’t seem the least intimidated, but his smile disappeared.

“Did he?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“What’s an emissary?” Stiles asked instead.

“A kind of… mentor, adviser.” the man answered not missing a beat. “Did His Majesty hurt you?” he asked again slower. Apparently, it was an important question and the queen spotted Scott and his mother cast worried glances toward him.

“Well, advise him to not to send his lapdogs to my private check-ups!” Stiles answered.

“Your Majesty, I need to know.” Deaton said, almost pleading. Since he looked really serious, the queen sighed. He bit his lips and looked around the room. He actually wanted to say that yes, Peter had beaten him and choked him and did all horrible things, but he hadn’t. Besides him being a bit rough he hadn’t hurt him. Maybe this was the first time Stiles actually realized it: that Peter hadn’t hurt him.

“No, no he didn’t.” he answered. “Why?”

“It’s a necessary question I needed to ask.” Deaton smiled, seemingly relieved by the answer.

“It’s because he’s insane? So it’s true?” Stiles asked. The man opened his mouth to say something, but in the end he just smiled.

“Something like that.” he answered at last with a slight nod of his head. “I appreciate your help. I’ll be around if you need me, Your Majesty.” he offered and Stiles scoffed.

“Why would I need the advisor of the Hales of all people?” he snorted, crossing his arms as he watched Deaton leave. “To the gods…”

\--

“I’m the king for one day and two people already oppose my orders.” Peter started, his voice dripping with irritation. “My question is… do you have a death wish?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he eyed Deaton from his chair.

“I felt the need to ask the boy—“

“The queen.” Peter corrected and he heard Derek snort from the other end of the table.

“I just felt the need to ask… the queen about his experiences, Your Majesty.” Deaton finished choosing his words carefully. His heartbeat didn’t rise which was his luck. “Because if he turns, he’ll become my responsibility too.”

“If the bite even turns him.” Cora remarked with a shrug, looking over to Deaton too from the maps on the table.

It was maybe dangerous for all of them to be in one room, but Peter needed to hear out both Derek and Cora about the fights which were still going on at the borders. About the kind of fights only they alone could deal with. But when he heard that Deaton visited Stiles without his permission he needed to talk to the man too. Peter glared down at the table with the maps, thinking about how one of his closest servants wasn’t as loyal as he should be. Deaton’s reasons must have been to keep Stiles safe, but the boy was sharp, he might have gotten suspicious about the strange questions.

“The queen is still human. No harm has been done to him, yet.” he stated in a voice which trembled from anger. “As if I need more incompetent Betas around.”

“They might be weak, but they fight for you. They give their lives for you.” Derek started and Peter slowly turned his head toward his nephew. His gaze was piercing and his blue stare quickly changed to red, because it looked like his puppy needed a bit of regulating. Again.

“Do you think this is really the time to be sentimental about our _precious_ Betas?”

Lately, Derek liked to challenge him. Not in the way as his new-found toy Stiles, but in a way that might get dangerous for him and for their pack too. Derek challenged his Alpha and Peter knew that he was growing and getting stronger and on one of these days they will have to settle this. One day they will have to settle who the Alpha is. As it was usual with _werewolves_.

Derek stood Peter’s crimson gaze a bit longer than last time, which was really worrisome. But in the end he looked away, giving up the fight for now. Peter wasn’t sure how long he can keep his status up, but Derek chose the worst time to rebel, taking that they still need a few parts of the kingdom to take over and it might get a bit more difficult with an unstable pack.

Their meeting was quick and fast as they discussed strategies and prepared for the next few weeks. Then Peter had to attend his coronation.

Peter actually didn’t need that hours long coronation ceremony, but it was necessary for the people to finally realize they’ve got a new king. It was needed for his future as king, so people will know he’s on the throne legitimately, which wasn’t exactly true. But officials were always a big deal for humans.

Also, for Peter’s greatest surprise, Stiles didn’t attend the ceremony despite his orders. So he decided to fetch him personally for dinner. Especially now his queen decided to play hide-and-seek.

\--

“How- how did you know I’m here?!” the queen of the HaleKingdom gasped and Peter was almost angry that the boy’s first reaction wasn’t fear but utter surprise. He stood by the entrance of one of the guard’s rooms. Judging by the smell, it was Scott’s room. The two of them were sitting on the bed playing a card game.

A. Card. Game.

Peter walked closer and Scott jumped on his feet. He didn’t have his sword by his side, but he was still ready to tackle their current king for their queen, and that was almost admirable. Almost. Peter smiled at him with the kind of smile which was followed by him choking people to death.

“The birds chirped it.” the king answered in an almost playful tone. Stiles pursed his lips, staring at Peter, and the man could pick up the scent of fear. Finally. “You didn’t tend your duties this day and missed the coronation, too. May I ask why?”

“I do how I please, I’m the queen.” Stiles said throwing the cards he was holding toward Peter.

“I didn’t know acting like a brat is a queen’s task. You’re doing it absolutely fantastic, _darling_.” Peter asked still with that lighter tone as he looked around in the room. It was a simple living quarter with a cupboard, nightstand, a basin and a bed. Nothing royal, and no wonder Stiles thought it was a good place to hide; no one would have looked for him here. But Peter already knew his scent and he could find him anywhere in the fortress.

“Why are you here, _honey_?” Stiles asked with a glare.

“I came here to fetch you for our dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You better work up an appetite soon or someone loses a limb.” Peter chuckled, looking at Scott. The boy took in a sharp breath in anger. Oh, the boy was strong, Peter thought and almost considered making him one of his Betas.

“I’m not-“

“Melissa was her name?” the king asked suddenly, shifting his gaze toward Scott. That question made both of the boys silent. Stiles finally stood up from the bed, frowning at Peter in disbelief. “Your gorgeous mother’s?”

“Yes… Your Majesty.” Scott answered and Peter knew he won this fight from the way Stiles licked his lips.

“She’s a wonderful lady.” the king continued. “Such skillful hands, both of them, and all those fingers…”

“Yes, yes we got it! I got it, oh my god.” his queen finally gave in and walked past Scott, patting him on the shoulder. Peter smiled wider and offered his arm mockingly and naturally, Stiles didn’t take it. They walked out without a word.

“You threatened to cut off her fingers if I wouldn’t come with you, that’s… that’s… I don’t even know.” Stiles started when they left the servant’s quarters, shaking his head.

“I told you I’ll deal with you, didn’t I?” Peter started as they walked past a group of servants bowing to them. “Cutting of your limbs wouldn’t teach you, but… cutting of others’ limbs would. I have a whole lot of people to choose from.” he chatted and he could smell the despair on Stiles, yet the boy still put up a brave face. Peter vaguely thought that emotions were indeed the biggest weakness to anybody. Love, hate, these could be used against people and Peter wasn’t afraid to use Stiles’ love for people against him.

“What’s marking?” Stiles asked suddenly.

“Carving your name into someone else’s skin with a knife, I suppose.” Peter retorted helpfully.

“Deaton asked me if you marked me.” the boy continued and Peter had to close his eyes for a second. He didn’t need Stiles spotting his eyes flashing from anger on top of all things. Deaton and his blabbing mouth… “Was it about the dagger? Was it because you’re insane?”

“I’m starting to feel violated here.” Peter sighed.

“Your- your dick was inside me and _you_ feel violated?” Stiles gasped flailing his arms. “You really are insane, your- your way of thinking is way messed up.”

“If I remember right you enjoyed having me inside you.” Peter smiled, tilting his head toward the boy. What was a better distraction than teasing, after all? The man reached out, grabbing the wrist of his queen, pulling him closer to him. The boy took in a sharp breath and his fear was clear now. Peter smiled and took a deep breath to enjoy that scent, but for his greatest surprise he caught a hint of lust too. He thought it was natural; Stiles was still a young boy and while not a virgin, still inexperienced. Despite his hate for Peter he was still the first one who touched him in such a way. “You were riding me like a whore last night, Stiles.”

“I didn’t…!” the boy hissed, trying to free his hand and Peter squeezed it tighter.

“How about I’ll remind you of it tonight, hm?” the man asked, leaning closer to the squirming boy.

“How about you go and find a real whore for that, huh?!” Stiles shouted.

“Oh, and make you jealous?” Peter teased and finally let the boy go, watching with glee as he stumbled.

“Quite the opposite, I’d be relieved if I don’t have to take any of you, ever!” the queen shouted so loud the walls echoed his words around them in the fire-lit corridor. The king just smiled, eying the boy’s back as he hurried ahead. He was almost adorable.

Their first dinner as King and Queen was actually a private dinner between them in their chambers. The servants had cleaned up the ribbons, roses and petals already and put fresh sheets on the bed. Peter could see Stiles’ utter disgust as he was looking around the room as they were eating. Somehow, it was annoying how the boy was loud even when he wasn’t talking. His expressions, his movements; the way he moved were all so _loud_.

Peter actually didn’t punish Stiles that day; he was waiting. Letting the boy think about all the dreadful things he could do to him was far more amusing to watch than giving him an actual punishment.

\--

Ever since his family died, Peter wasn’t fond of physicality. He didn’t like to touch others and he absolutely hated it when anyone touched him. This way of thinking wasn’t exactly handy for a werewolf, and he knew that. Thankfully there hadn’t been situations where it was necessary to scent-mark anyone by frequently touching them, therefore he didn’t think much about it.

Then he married Prince Stiles Stilinski and he had to show both humans and werewolves that the boy was _his_. Humans were satisfied by a ring and a wedding, but werewolves needed more; they needed scent. They needed Peter’s scent on Stiles’ skin to approve Peter’s claim, even if it wasn’t exactly a claim he wanted to make. He knew it was partly his fault for keeping Stiles alive for the time being, but Peter never thought that scent-marking the boy would be such a hustle.

“Get off me!” Stiles squirmed under his grip, out of breath. His cheeks were pink from the struggle he had put up. Some pieces of carrots from the vegetable soup were still in his hair from when Peter practically jumped at his throat across their dining table during one of their heated arguments. He smelled of soup, fear and despair. And yet he still put up a fight, he didn’t seem to give up.

“Were you really thinking that your attitude won’t have consequences?” Peter asked, squeezing Stiles’ hands so hard the boy cried out from pain. “My patience isn’t endless, my queen.”

Stiles didn’t answer, just tried to free his legs from under Peter, struggling for freedom, but of course he wasn’t a match for the man.

“Then do it! Do whatever you want, I don’t care anymore!” he hissed, arching his back and Peter felt his body react. He hadn’t really felt this kind of desire for someone else for a long time, and it now caught him so off guard that he let Stiles free. The boy crawled away as far as he could, wheezing and brushing the vegetables out of his hair. Peter had to swipe off a few pieces of carrot from his own clothes. At least the scent-marking was done for the day…

“Do you really think I’d have my way with you and let you enjoy it too?” he asked as he stood up from the floor, looking around the mess they had made. The dining table was flipped over and all the food was scattered and ruined on the floor. What a waste, Peter thought.

“Believe me, it isn’t a thing you should be afraid of.” Stiles scoffed as he stumbled on his feet too, brushing his shirt off and Peter spotted how his wrists were slowly turning red from the rough handling. For a second it flashed before him where else he could abuse the boy like that. Stiles’ skin bruised so easily and so prettily, Peter sometimes wished he would give more reasons to hurt him.

“Stiles.” Peter started walking closer again, making the boy jump. “Did it ever occur to you that… something might happen to your father?”

“What…?” the boy’s eyes widened, his lips parted and the king smiled again.

“An accident, maybe. A sudden fire.” he spoke and he could see the images flash behind Stiles’ eyes, making his heart beat faster and his limbs shiver. “It would burn for three days straight, with your father in the middle of it.”

“You wouldn’t…” Stiles started, but his voice broke so sweetly it sent a shiver down Peter’s spine.

“Do you really think so?” he asked back in a low voice, watching the queen lose more of his fighting spirit. Just like Peter wanted. “You missed my coronation, you hit me in front of my men and you completely ignore any order I give you. I think you deserve what would happen to him, Stiles, and it would be your fault entirely.” As Peter was talking he could hear Stiles pulse rise and his teeth rattled a little from the shiver that hit him.

“You wouldn’t…!” he repeated, but there was no power behind his words anymore.

“You do as I say without giving me the attitude and I might spare him.”

Stiles was silent for a while, but Peter was patient. He could see the boy trying to choke his own pride down just to move his head in a nod. And it was beautiful; watching Stiles’ inner struggle, smelling his despair and fear was exciting. They were nearing the endgame where the boy finally breaks and when Peter will have no interest in him anymore. For some reason knowing that disappointed the man.

“Clean up then.” he said suddenly.

“What…?” the boy blinked a bit confused.

“I said, clean up.” Peter said motioning over the mess they’ve made. “And tomorrow, you’re going to clean the great hall… alone.”

Stiles’ baffled gaze was absolutely adorable as he could only shake his head. His parted lips were so inviting, somehow Peter had a hard time resisting the urge to steal a kiss.

“Get to it. Or do you want to stay there like a scared deer all night?” he asked, stepping back. Watching with satisfaction as the boy slowly walked back to the mess and started cleaning it up.

Peter thought that with this they finally established the new rules.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape attempt and violence warning for this chapter!!!
> 
> Betaed by Evy, any other mistakes are mine~

The rough material of the shirt was itching his skin, and he felt like the clothes were weighing him down instead of covering his body. Servant clothes were really different from the kind of fabrics Stiles was usually wearing, but Peter insisted on him wearing this when he would clean the Great Hall. He wouldn’t want to dirty his own, fine clothes after all, right?

“He’s seriously going to do this to you?” Scott asked when he spotted Stiles in one of the servant’s clothes that morning.

“No, no he’s just joking Scott, because Peter Hale is such a clown.” Stiles snorted.

He couldn’t believe it. Peter was getting worse day by day and Stiles felt like losing to him every night when they spent their dinner together. Peter didn’t sleep with him, not even in one bed with him, but sometimes touched him out of the blue or manhandled him like he would be a child or comment on his father’s health and it was starting to chip at Stiles’ strength. He felt weaker as the days had gone by and it made him afraid of what’s coming. It wasn’t about opposing Peter anymore, it was about surviving.

“I’m sorry, brother.” Scott sighed, taking a look at Stiles again. It was just a rare sight to see a royal in such attire. “I’ll help, come on.”

“Scott, it’s an order that no one should help me.” Stiles started, sighing a little tired as they were walking toward the Great Hall.

“I don’t care.” the guard shrugged and once again Stiles was grateful he had such a friend with him. For a short moment he’d gotten scared Peter will take Scott away too, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to do that. Not for now, at least. “I’ve got a letter from my mother. She said she arrived safely in the old capital and your father is well too.” Scott smiled a little and it lifted Stiles’ spirits up a bit. His father was still alright, Scott’s mom still had all her fingers and Scott was with him. If he was thinking about it, his situation wasn’t as bad as he first thought. Also, the country was finally done with war, which was the most important after all.

“Thank you, buddy.” he smiled at Scott.

They reached the great hall with all the cleaning supplies already prepared for them.

“Wow, how thoughtful.” the queen snorted, looking around the huge place. The long tables were set to stand next to the wall, letting the light of the spring day hit the floor, brightening up the whole place. Yet, it was still cold and empty. “Shall we get started then?” Stiles asked and got the nearest bucket, holding it up for Scott. “Fetch me some water my fellow servant.”

“Stiles, they aren’t talking like that.” Scott rolled his eyes, but took the bucket.

“Alright, shut up.” the boy snorted. “Was that better?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Scott just shook his head and turned on his heels to fill the bucket with water. He left Stiles alone.

The queen sighed, looking around and wondered if cleaning a room actually was better than attending his classes. Though it was debatable which was more boring. At least Scott was there with him. Stiles absently took a broom and started sweeping like he’d seen the servants do it, but he was sure when Scott arrives he’ll scoff at how awful he is.

“His Majesty the Queen, Stiles Stilinski.” he heard the echoing voice from behind him and turned to its source. Three servants were standing a few feet away from him by the entrance where Scott had left. The queen had seen them around a few times but never really talked to them. So it was strange they addressed him in such a mocking way.

“Yes, that’s me.” Stiles frowned, straightening his back. Because no matter what kind of clothes he was wearing, he was still the Queen of the Hale Kingdom. And he didn’t like the look from these men as they were closing up on him. “Do you wish to talk to me?” he asked refusing the urge to take a step back.

“Yeah, yeah we wish.” one of them spoke again and Stiles immediately tensed his neck at how offensive their behaviors were. “Do you enjoy being the Queen?”

Stiles blinked at the question, it wasn’t something he had expected.

“Excuse me?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Do you enjoy being the Queen and sucking cock for your benefit?” another one asked, stepping closer. Stiles tried to back away but he bumped into someone. Apparently there were four servants trying to gang up on him. They slowly surrounded him and Stiles swallowed to try and not panic. All of them were taller than him, but only a little older. They were young people who lost their families in the war, Stiles realized. The king took in orphaned children as servants to try and save them.

“How dare you speak to me in such foul language?” he asked between gritted teeth, tightening his grip on his broom. They might have been more in numbers, but he had learned to fight.

“I heard he was already on his knees the second Peter Hale arrived to the old capital.” yet another laughed and his voice cut into Stiles like a knife. He wasn’t… it wasn’t like that! “Who knew the biggest traitor was the son of the king himself.”

“I’m not a traitor!” Stiles shouted. “I saved the country, I saved the people, I saved you people!” he motioned toward them and they apparently took it as a challenge, because the servant who was standing behind him grabbed his arm. Stiles cried out and swiped the broom toward the nearest man, hitting him by the side of his head. But at that the other two jumped on him, twisting his arm back and taking his ‘weapon’ from him.

“Because of you the Hale dogs won’t give us a break.” Stiles heard one of them hiss as they grabbed his hair and forced him on his knees. “You gave up your country and abandoned your people, _Your Majesty_.”

“I did the right thing!” Stiles shouted just to have someone kick at his jaw. He immediately felt the metallic taste of blood and he had to spit. He could barely believe that people who were apparently loyal to the old king were handling him this way. “I did the right thing, Peter Hale would have burned up the whole country and you all with it!” he shouted, struggling against the arms that were holding him down.

“Then that’s what the old and new gods have wanted.” the servant said. “Now let me show you, how it is to suck something other than a royal cock.” Stiles trashed around but once again he felt himself utterly weak against these people. His legs seemed like they were made of lead as he knew what was coming. But it wasn’t exactly their actions; it was their reasoning that made him immobile. It was something he was constantly brooding about: if he did the right thing, if they could trust in Peter to bring peace and build their kingdom. And now, these people here called him out on it.

“Scott—Scott!” he shouted hoping his guard was nearby and he luckily didn’t have to be disappointed. A chair hit one of the servants, knocking him out for good. Scott arrived just in time. He had his sword drawn and pointed at the group of servants.

“Let His Majesty go!” his hissed at them and Stiles felt their grip loosen. Scott reached for him and helped him to his feet, still keeping his sword at them. “Are you okay?” he asked Stiles quietly and for the first time the boy couldn’t say yes. He was out of breath, and he had a death grip on Scott’s arm as he turned back to face his attackers… and he felt something break inside him. He was the queen and no one, absolutely _no one_ should question him.

“No.” he wheezed out.

“I sent for the guards, they will put them in the dungeon for what they did.” Scott said. “The king will know about it too.” he added, but Stiles didn’t listen. He heard a ringing in his ears but not Scott’s words.

“I want them impaled.” he said as the guards arrived to shackle the servants.

“Your Majesty!” a few of the servants gasped and Scott turned his head toward him in disbelief too.

“Without a trial…?” he asked quietly, but Stiles didn’t listen.

“What they did was high treason, the worst of all crimes. There is no need for a trial.” Stiles heard himself say. “You’ll have three days to think about your sin. On the pole.”

“Stiles…” Scott started, but the queen didn’t want to hear any plea, any soothing word anymore.

“This afternoon.” he said, nodding the guards to lead them away. “And I shall be there.” he added.

\--

The time Peter got informed about what had happened to Stiles, the preparation of the execution of the four traitors was already ongoing to his greatest surprise. But he let it be. Apparently, the Queen personally handled their matter. Usually it took a few days until they put the traitors to a trial, but this time there was no trial. Stiles sentenced them to agonizing death, abusing his powers to the fullest. It was actually something Peter didn’t expect from him. He also was a bit disappointed that he wasn’t the one thinking about it: using servants in such a splendid way. They could do the last of the damage Peter wanted to do and once again he had to be reminded how humans were also a kind of monsters themselves.

The king wasn’t looking at the unfortunate fellows on the pole during the execution, but at his queen, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about what he’d seen. The only color on his wife’s face was the huge bruise probably left on him by his attackers. His eyes were empty as he was watching the suffering of the men, but he didn’t _see_ them. His mouth gave orders, but said nothing else. Stiles was broken. He was shattered into pieces and in his current state Peter felt like he was looking into a mirror.

Stiles looked and felt absolutely _disgusting_ and it wasn’t just Peter who noticed it. His personal guard, Scott, was standing by his side, tense and with a sad expression, smelling heavily of guilt. He was confused over his queen’s and friend’s acts and it was killing him inside. When Stiles sent him away for the day he looked relieved and hurried away without a second thought to give his place to the night guard.

“We had quite a hectic day, didn’t we?” Peter remarked as the servants placed their dinner on the table. Stiles didn’t say anything, just eyed his dish. The king spotted how all the servants were more careful and quieter around them thanks to Stiles’ acts. It was amusing in a way. “Thank you, you can go.” Peter sent everyone away then and started his meal.

His queen was still not moving a limb, sitting in his chair too quietly. It was unusual of him, Peter wondered, because Stiles was never silent. He was always talking, always moving, always doing something. Even when he wasn’t doing anything he was loud. Sometimes he was so loud Peter couldn’t even hear _those other voices_. But not this time.

“What exactly happened?” he asked looking up, absently eying the bruise on Stiles’ jaw again and hating it wasn’t him who had done it.

“They were rude to me.” Stiles whispered. His words lacked something Peter couldn’t exactly pin-point, but he could still feel it. “I showed them no one’s rude to the queen.”

The king smiled and leaned back in his chair, eying his wife who was sitting right across from him. Stiles Stilinski; all broken and cruel, just like Peter himself was. Isn’t that a match made in heaven?

“I heard they called you a traitor for marrying me. That they said you pushed the country into a deep pit.”

“Their language was far fouler.”

“I would have done the same.” Peter said lightly.

“What?” Stiles frowned and the king saw some of his older self peeking through his eyes as he raised his gaze to meet his.

“I would have done the same, Stiles.” the man repeated. “They hurt you, forced you on your knees and called you a traitor. It’s the worst sin they could have committed. Their punishment met the depth of their acts, Stiles.”

The boy opened his mouth to say something, but in the end he decided against it. Peter held his gaze, leaning forward a little.

“You’re not all that different from me.” he continued on his soft voice, watching as Stiles’ realized that too. “If it comes to power and status, you’re not afraid to show who is in charge. I like that.”

“Enough…” the boy muttered, looking away. He might have been broken, but Peter could still step on the pieces.

“Maybe you’ve even killed before.” Peter threw it at the boy lightly but held his breath when he heard Stiles’ heart skip a beat. “Have you killed before, Stiles?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Enough!” Stiles shouted.

Peter smiled amused. So the concept of murdering someone wasn’t alien from his innocent queen. And Peter wasn’t exactly curious about any of that. Stiles was broken and he held no more interest for him.

“Night, my queen.” he said quietly, standing from the table to leave. Stiles let him go without any remark, without fighting. Because he had no more fight in him. Peter wasn’t sure why, but the boy wasn’t as pretty broken as he had imagined.

Peter spent the rest of the evening in his own room. Alone. Because he didn’t need to be reminded of himself.

\--

For the next few days Stiles refused to get out of bed or even eat anything. Scott was standing by his door the whole day, every day. Hoping that one day his friend will snap out of it, or at least eat something. Scott wrote to the old king about the incident and about Stiles too, but the queen never read the letter the king sent as an answer. It seemed like he gave up and Scott was sad and angry at the same time. He was trying to talk to Stiles many times, but the queen always sent him away. So the guard just stood by his door all day.

Deaton visited the queen on a few occasions too, bearing medicine and kind words, but apparently nothing could heal the wounds of the heart. Stiles was giving up and not many things were good for that kind of sickness, and Scott felt more and more helpless each day.

Peter went to see the queen only once during these days, watching how he’s slowly withering away, just like a flower. His cheeks lost their old colors, his eyes weren’t looking at anything, just waiting for something. Probably for death, Peter wondered.

As the king exited Stiles’ room and closed the door, he met with Scott’s glare. Peter knew he blamed him, but fairly he had so little to do with Stiles’ choice of killing those servants.

“You got everything you wanted.” he heard Scott’s voice as he attempted to leave. “Why did you have to do this?”

“Do what exactly?” Peter sighed turning toward the guard with a sigh that showed he had no time for small chit-chat. It just fueled the guard’s rage.

“Turning him like you.” Scott said with a hitch in his voice. Peter pursed his lips, eying the guard with a tight smile.

“He always had the seed, Scott.” he started. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t my fault.”

“You were pushing him all the time!”

“Yes.” Peter nodded. “But it really isn’t my responsibility he took a few traitors down with him.” he said and turned. Even if it was probably his words and Stiles’ weak mind was responsible of how he acted with those traitors. Peter knew he was partly responsible, but not as much as Scott held him accused for. In any other case he would feel indifferent over such a case, but this time, he couldn’t help feeling extremely irritated over how things had worked out. He preferred his toys more… stable. But apparently, fine things broke faster.

\--

The next day Peter debated whether to stop Stiles’ suffering and decided to check on the boy. It was late at night when he was finally free from his duties and took his way to the queen’s chambers, just to find that Scott was already retreated to his room and there was only the night guard standing by the door. Peter still entered the room, just to find Stiles’ bed empty. The man frowned and looked around, but the room was empty and there was no sign of struggle or any scent of blood. A glass of wine was sitting by the nightstand untouched, but the fruits from Stiles’ dinner were missing. Peter could have left it at that, but he still decided to follow the boy’s scent, curious of where he would have gone after days of bed rest.

The scent led him up to the highest point of the castle, to the roof of the keep. For a second Peter had the awful thought that Stiles might want to end his misery with a jump, but what he saw was far from what he’d expected. His queen was sitting on a pillow with the bowl of fruit next to him from his dinner and was watching the sky. He was wearing his light coat over his nightshirt in the slightly chilly spring night, but apparently the cold didn’t bother him that much. As Peter took the last of the stairs’ steps, he looked up at the sky too. Stars. Nothing else. He didn’t see what there was to look at.

He cast a glance at the few guards that were up that night and got frightened looks in return. They weren’t afraid of only him, but of Stiles’ too. The point he wanted to make with the execution was clear and everyone in the kingdom understood it. No one will try to harm him for a while, no wonder he dared to run around without a guard.

Peter sighed a little and walked up to the queen slowly. At the noise of his steps Stiles turned his gaze from the stars toward him. It might have been the moonlight but his face was paler than usual, and his eyes looked like he didn’t sleep these days at all. Maybe he didn’t. Yet, he still looked more alive than in his bed the last few days.

“The birds?” he asked in a hoarse voice, eying Peter slightly surprised.

“Yes.” the man nodded, walking next to him. Stiles just sighed and turned his head back to the dark blue sky. His husband watched him for a while, then turned his eyes up too. He vaguely wondered how Stiles was broken beyond repair when he’d seen him a few days ago and tonight he looked determined. Just when Peter gave up on him.

“I read a lot of books about the stars and the Moon.” Stiles started. “But I’m still not sure what to believe of them, you know.”

His tone was tired, mature and a bit alien to Peter’s ears. He sighed, crossing his arms.

“I have no interest in celestials.” he commented. “There are more important matters right back on the ground.”

Stiles just sighed, looking down. He squeezed his fingers and bit his lower lip as he was thinking about something. Peter eyed him and then decided to stay a bit longer. He had no other duties that day after all and Stiles seemed like he had things to say. Peter caught himself being curious of it.

“Can we talk?” Stiles started after a long silence, looking up at Peter. The man just motioned to him to go on. “I…” the boy started, licking his lips again. “I don’t want to be like you.” he said and took a shaky breath. “Because I’m… I’m not like you, alright?”

Peter raised an eyebrow at the boy, but said nothing.

“I… won’t say I didn’t make a mistake, but I can’t do it back. It’s done.” Stiles continued. “But I don’t want to set it as a trend.” he continued and turned to Peter. “Can I ask you something?”

“You already did.” Peter answered shrugging with a smile. But then he nodded. “Go on.”

“Do you want peace?” the boy asked and Peter’s smile disappeared. “Tell me, Peter, do you want this country to live in peace?”

The king tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the boy who asked that question. He asked seriously and he wanted an honest answer Peter wasn’t sure he could give to him. He didn’t want peace, he wanted destruction of the people who hurt his family; he wanted power over everyone. He wanted no one to question his authority again… He wanted to _challenge the gods_. There was no peace on that list.

“Yes.” he answered at last.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and Peter wasn’t sure he actually believed him. The boy’s gaze was the same as on that night. On the night they spent together. When he swore revenge on him. There was no death wish in his gaze anymore.

“Then I’ll stand next to you.” the queen started. “I- I married you to bring peace to my country; to prevent more families being separated; to stop the killings.”

“I’m working on that.”

“ _We’re_ gonna work on that!” Stiles snapped for Peter’s surprise. “I’m not your pet, I’m not your slave, I-I’m your queen and I demand you to handle me as such.”

“Is that so?” Peter asked, crossing his arms. He cocked his chin up, eying the boy who turned into a man right in front of his eyes. “That means you’ll handle me as your king.”

“I will.” Stiles nodded, looking down. “Because… I have to adjust my sails.” he said quietly, mostly to himself, Peter wondered. The man decided that they are done for that night, so he walked up to Stiles and held his hand out for him.

“Let me put you back to bed. If you’re still keen on being my queen, you need to rest.” he told him. Because if the boy was serious then he won’t be able to achieve being a leader in looking the way he did in that moment. Stiles eyed his hand for a while, but after a long moment he took it and pulled himself up on his feet.

“As if I could get any sleep.” the queen said quietly. “It’s not as inviting as it was before.” he muttered and Peter knew what he meant. Stiles might have watched the execution with a blank expression, with eyes that held no emotions, but somewhere very deep inside he cried together with those men, he died together with them. And he heard their screams and curses every time it got too silent. Peter was familiar with the sensation, awfully familiar.

He was looking at the boy’s face, lingering on those dark circles under his eyes, then stepped closer to him.

“How about some distraction for tonight then?” he offered, just to meet Stiles’ confused gaze. “You’ll know what I mean when we get back.” Peter said and pulled on the queen’s arm a little. Not roughly, but strong enough to sign him they should go. And Stiles nodded, walking with him.

They were walking next to each other, hand in hand and Peter felt strangely confident like this. He was sure the boy was honest with his confession and he laid his trust in him. They weren’t just king and queen; they were the King and Queen, the rulers of the country.

Arriving back to their room, Peter guided Stiles to the bed.

“Sit down.” he told him softly and when the boy did so, he walked to the nightstand and pulled out the drawer. He retrieved a small little bottle, which was used to put medicine in and opened it. He poured some wine into Stiles’ cup, then added the contents of the small flask to it.

“What’s that?” he heard Stiles ask quietly as Peter took the cup and turned toward him.

“You know what this is.” he told him and handed over the wine. “It will make you relaxed.” This is how he presented what kind of distraction he was thinking of. Stiles was actually free to refuse Peter’s offer and the man wasn’t sure he won’t do it. After all, he swore loyalty, but not love. After a few seconds of hesitation however, Stiles reached for the cup.

As Peter held the wine out for him, Stiles realized what kind of distraction he had in mind. He wondered if he was ready for it. If he was ready to give his body to Peter again. As he was thinking about it, he realized something. While he could offer himself to Peter, then meanwhile he can use Peter just the same. It was just acts of the flesh, nothing more, and Stiles had to admit that the first time wasn’t worse as any other first time out there. Peter didn’t hurt him in bed.

So he reached out for the cup, agreeing to welcome Peter into his bed once again. He heard the approving hum of the man as he pulled the drink to his lips. He raised his gaze to Peter just to see him pull out his dagger, place it on the pillow, then slowly start to undress. Stiles barely swallowed one little gulp from the wine, but he felt himself blush, because he was more occupied with the man’s bare chest than the dagger by his side. Something strange hit Stiles about it once again, a feeling he couldn’t quite get. Peter looked just like he remembered: well built, with soft skin and with light freckles covering his chest, shoulders and arms. Something probably only Stiles knew and that made his heart skip a beat for some reason. Then Peter’s blue eyes met his and Stiles realized he was staring frozen on the spot.

“Do you like it?” Peter asked with a half-smile, stepping closer. Stiles just snorted and gulped down the wine quickly. Yes, it tasted just as sweet as on his wedding night. He put the cup back on the nightstand, then wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, licking his lips. The next thing he knew was that Peter stepped to him and put his hands on his thighs to spread them. As he slowly leaned closer and descended between Stiles’ knees his scent got stronger. It was a musky scent, mixed with copper, sweat and leather along with Peter’s own scent. It hit the boy a little how he could tell that after only one night of being together, but he tried not to think about it too much.

Stiles once again felt like prey in the mouth of it’s predator but he tried to swallow that feeling down. He was here because he agreed to it and because he wanted distraction of the awful images that haunted him these days and nights.

When he felt Peter stroke his thighs and reaching for the string of his trousers, Stiles took in a sharp breath. As the man’s fingers disappeared under his long shirt, slowly untying the string and popping open the buttons, his fingers sometimes brushed against Stiles’ skin. And every time the boy shivered.

“Your hands…” Stiles started suddenly and without really thinking about it he reached to take Peter’s hands in his to look at them. “They are… soft.” he muttered thoughtfully. Then he looked up just to see Peter’s slightly alarmed expression.

“Soft.” the man repeated, trying to sound mocking, but Stiles didn’t miss the slight tremble.

“As if you’ve never fought with a sword in your life.” the boy continued. “I know how a warrior’s hand looks and this isn’t like that.” he spoke softly, thinking about his father’s rough hands.

“Are you saying I’m not a warrior?” Peter asked, tilting his head up to gaze into Stiles’ face. The boy looked back at him with a thoughtful expression.

“I’m just saying…” he started. “It’s strange.” he muttered and Peter chuckled as he freed his hands and slipped them into his partner’s trousers.

“You think too much.” he told the boy and Stiles twitched when he felt Peter’s fingers around his sensitive spot once again.

“Kiss me.” he swallowed, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. The man looked up at Stiles again.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice which echoed in Stiles’ chest and not in the bad way. It warmed his body up.

“Are you deaf?” Stiles scoffed softly, but then licked his lips. He wished that blush hadn’t just crept on his face. “It calms me down.” he explained, and at the end of his sentence Peter was already brushing his lips against his in a soft kiss. Stiles involuntarily gave a low moan and tilted his head for better access. His tongue darted out to lap at Peter’s lower lip. When Peter parted his lips, Stiles took in a sharp breath as he licked into his mouth, slipping his hand into Peter’s hair. It was an adult kiss, something that did things to him. His body reacted in the sweetest way and Stiles welcomed it. He closed his eyes and rubbed his tongue against Peter’s before the man decided to deepen the kiss. He licked at the roof of his mouth, causing Stiles to jerk once again. He felt sweat breaking on his forehead already as Peter and the drug were working on his body.

“Your reactions are quite amusing.” Peter commented and squeezed Stiles a little.

“Shut up…” the boy sighed and let go of a trembling breath when Peter’s lips slipped to his jaw, tracing small kisses toward his neck. Stiles realized these things were missing from their wedding night. The kisses, the touches… It also made him aware that he can see and touch Peter like this. So he tilted his head and slipped his hands down the man’s chest. It was so strong and huge and while Peter’s hands weren’t a warrior’s, his body definitely was. But something still bugged Stiles about it.

“Scars…” he whispered to himself. “You don’t have scars…” he repeated, stroking Peter’s chest with his hands. At that moment the man took his wrists and pulled them off of himself. His eyes were strange as he tilted his head to look at Stiles again.

“What about it?” he asked, but the queen knew there was _something_ about it. Peter’s reaction made him unsure about pressing the matter just yet.

“Nothing.” he said, swallowing and leaning in to kiss the man again. Peter then urged Stiles’ clothes off and nudged him further up the bed.

“Do you want to talk, or do you want to think of sweet nothings?” the king asked him as he pressed his hips against’ Stiles’, watching the boy arch in need.

“I don’t want to think of anything.” Stiles wheezed, rubbing his face and watching Peter from under half closed eyes. Peter smiled down at him and kicked his own trousers off and when he was back, hovering over the boy, Stiles could see the lust in his eyes. He wanted him, he wanted to eat him up like the big bad wolf in the fairy tale. And Stiles didn’t mind. It was exactly what he wanted: being devoured and destroyed so he didn’t have to think of anything else.

Peter leaned down and placed a kiss on his collarbone. Stiles sighed softly, closing his eyes for just a second at the sensation. It spread through his body, but he couldn’t exactly get used to it when he felt those lips kiss all over his chest and he cried out when a tongue licked at his nipple. The drug was working fast in his system, making everything better than it was and rushing his heart toward something sweet and mind-numbing. He felt Peter’s fingers on his stomach, stroking along his sides and then dropping between his legs, squeezing his hardness.

“I’ll show you something.” Peter’s voice rumbled against the skin of his chest and Stiles wanted to ask what he was talking about. Then his eyes shot open and his back arched from the bed when he felt the man kiss at the top of his cock. “You’ll like it.” he heard Peter say and tilted his head to look down at the man who pulled his lip into that awful smirk right at his erection.

“To the gods…” Stiles swallowed and watched as Peter took a huge lick at his shaft and his toes curled. A low chuckle shook him as he fisted his hands in the sheets and he had to realize that Peter was enjoying this. He was enjoying putting Stiles through such misery and the boy didn’t mind. This is exactly what he wanted. “More…” he heard himself say and Peter licked at him once again before completely abandoning him. “No, no what are you doing…!” Stiles squirmed and tilted his head to see where Peter had gone. The man was searching for something in the nightstand drawer again, and when Stiles recognized the small jar from their wedding night, he calmed down a bit.

“Is that…?”

“Don’t ask useless questions, Stiles.” Peter said a bit out of breath as he found his place between Stiles’ legs again. The boy watched as he coated his fingers with the slippery thing and couldn’t suppress his shiver. He knew what that thing did and what might happen and his body was anticipating it.

Peter leaned down, kissing his cock again and then did something Stiles so wasn’t expecting from him. He slipped him past his lips and sucked on the tip and Stiles felt like losing his mind.

“Oh dear—god..!” he panted and squirmed and Peter placed his hand on his waist, pushing him against the bed to stop him from slipping out of his mouth. Meanwhile he nudged Stiles legs apart and teased his entrance with one finger.

Soon, Stiles felt Peter’s finger inside him buried to the hilt and it didn’t feel as invasive as first time. Maybe because he was in very good hands, or lips. Peter slowly worked him with his fingers and with his mouth too. He took him deeper and deeper, sucking on his hardness and swirling his tongue on the underside of it.

“You’re… going to kill me…” Stiles panted and reached out to slip his fingers into Peter’s hair. It was so strange being able to touch the man as such, in an intimate way. But not unpleasant at all. As Stiles touched him, he stopped what he was doing and looked up at the boy. The queen frowned and tilted his head to look at Peter who was staring at him with an unreadable expression. “Something’s wrong?” Stiles asked quietly, but the only answer he got was Peter crawling up over him and covering his mouth with his. Stiles welcomed it and his own taste with it. Though he couldn’t help his cry when Peter added a second finger, and worked him more and more open.

“How could I go to whores when you’re the tightest for me?” he heard Peter whisper against his ear, his stubble brushing against sensitive skin. Stiles just gasped out a ‘shut up’, trying to adjust to the stretching as fast as he could.

Peter entered him without any warning and Stiles winced and tears filled his eyes at the sensation. His whole body tensed up and he needed a few seconds to catch his breath.

“Wait, just a second…” Stiles hissed, squirming a little to find a comfortable position and for his greatest surprise Peter stopped moving. The boy swallowed, licked his lips and opened his eyes. When he did that, he met Peter’s blue stare and he realized this is indeed different from their first night together. This felt different and Peter was _looking_ at him. It made Stiles a bit nervous and his stomach dropped, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was a bad feeling.

Before he knew it he slipped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, realizing how hot the man’s body was. He stroked his skin over his shoulders and a little down toward his back and Peter let out a soft sigh.

“Do you like it?” Stiles couldn’t help ask, tilting his head to look into Peter’s face. He didn’t get any answers, but the king’s expression told him to shut it immediately. It wasn’t scary, but Stiles bit in his lips for a second. Peter then took his hands from around his shoulders and pushed them down the bed roughly.

“Wait…!” Stiles swallowed, but he winced when the man snapped his hips against him not softly at all.  He buried himself deep inside him without stopping and it knocked all the air out of the boy’s lungs. He parted his lips, gasping, panting and squirming as Peter pulled out just to slap back in. It hurt, it was rough and Stiles was laying there helpless as the man was still holding his arms down and yet he couldn’t help welcoming it. It was because he was familiar with it; he knew it will get better.

Gasping out Peter’s name, Stiles threw his head back as the man set a steady and fast rhythm. He felt the man pressing his nose and lips against his exposed neck, his goatee scratching against his skin, leaving a burn mark. Peter took a deep breath before flicking his tongue over the skin. Stiles moaned and Peter changed his angle and the boy saw stars.

“God…” he called out as he put his thighs around Peter’s hips to urge him on again for the same angle and he wasn’t disappointed. With every movement of the king he couldn’t breathe and his vision doubled. Stiles felt like he was really going to die. “Please- Aah!” he groaned at the same time as Peter let go of one of his arms to grab onto something else.

He heard Peter whisper against his ear and Stiles came in the next moment. His body tensed up and his toes curled as release hit him like thunder, making him buck up into Peter’s thrusts and take everything. He rode himself on the waves of pleasure, moaning loudly, calling the new and old gods to help him.

Somewhere in the middle of his orgasm Stiles felt Peter’s hand tremble, and his body going out of rhythm. His breath picked up and became ragged as his thrusts grew more powerful. His release didn’t have any madman in it like on their first night. While it was rough and violent and Stiles was sure he’d bruised his arm again at how tight he was holding him down, he wasn’t afraid. Not like before.

\--

Peter came to his senses when he heard a scream. His body jerked and his eyes shot wide open. It was dark, _silent_ and warm. Too warm. He needed a few seconds to realize he’s not alone. His nose was pressed against Stiles’ naked chest and one of the boy’s arms was thrown over his shoulder. Peter also noted that he had a possessive hand over the queen’s waist.

They were practically _cuddling_.

Peter almost threw up as he was slowly pulling away from the boy. He lost a part of the warmth he was feeling but he welcomed the sudden chill as a hit to get him back to his senses. He never meant to fall asleep together with Stiles, let alone cuddling with him. It wasn’t his style and while the sex didn’t seem to be that bad, the cuddling still wasn’t on his list. He groaned sleepily and sat up, looking out of the window and watched as dawn was breaking the darkness on the horizon. This wasn’t like him.

He turned his head when he felt Stiles move, pulling the covers over himself when he felt the loss of warmth too. The boy was half awake and Peter had the impossible urge to reach out and run his fingers through his hair and tell him to go back to sleep. Instead he fisted both of his hands, eying the boy. Stiles didn’t invite him back, but didn’t send him away either. He had gone back to sleep.

Peter took it as a cue to leave.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violent werewolf ahead...! Blood and all the things ensue.
> 
> Betaed by Evy, any other mistakes are mine~

 

 

The Hales were staring at him as if he had two heads. But Stiles most definitely was still himself and he hoped his lunch hadn’t stained his tunic that day. But he looked down to check. Just in case. He told Peter that he’s going to stand by his side and it meant he had to be informed about everything that was going on in the kingdom and who knew more about that than the Hales right now?

“What?” he asked when he found himself as clean as the late spring day.

“Uh… Why are you here again?” Derek spoke up first, and cast a confused glance at Peter too. They were standing over the table, looking at the maps Cora and Derek had brought back about the armies’ positions; talking about their next strategy. It was a private Hale meeting and now Stiles was standing at the door as if he was _invited_.

“I’m here to see how our armies are doing.” Stiles said, walking into the room next to Derek to look at the maps too. Scott was walking behind him, but he stopped by the door, closing it.

Cora raised a surprised eyebrow and looked at Peter too.

“I thought this is a private meeting.” she said, truly wanting an explanation of this.

“It is.” Peter nodded with an amused expression as he was eying Stiles. “I don’t remember inviting you.”

“Well too bad, since I’m in this circle now too.” the queen snorted, motioning around. “Taken that these men are my men too.” he added, pointing down at the reports.

“They are the kingdom’s.” Cora corrected him amused and Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. She probably wasn’t a witch, but she was definitely related to Peter with that attitude.

“And who am I, a jester?” Stiles snorted. “So what do we got?” he asked, but then Derek blocked his view of the maps.

“We got this, you go and do your… queen duties.” he told him and Stiles snorted.

“Well these are my duties, you know. To make sure that our men aren’t sacrificing their lives for something selfish or useless. We still have rebels by the countryside, don’t we? They could drain our strength from something far more important. The neighboring countries might decide to act now that the kingdom is still adapting to the new regime.”  he said.

“That’s not likely.” Peter started sharply. “We could work up a good reputation.”

“And that will so come in handy when you will be ridiculed by some rebels at the borders, yes.” Stiles frowned at him and Peter stopped smiling. “Here, you can take these troops on the East to go around and join forces with them from the North.”

“That’s not good.” Derek snapped immediately. “We’ll end up with two weak troops, while we need one big and strong one.”

“But they won’t expect them from the North, it’s-“ Stiles started but Derek shook his head obviously not wanting to hear anything he had to say.

“Why won’t you go already, you’re not needed here.” he told the queen. “We can take care of this!”

“Derek.” Peter started and walked around him to get between Stiles and his nephew. “You’re still talking to the queen.”

“That’s right, you should practice some respect—“

“And you.” Peter turned to Stiles, sighing a bit frustrated. “You leave right now. I’ve dealt with worse than this incident. Your help will be considered, but not right now, Stiles. Leave.”

Stiles could only gape at them. He looked around the room, just to meet Peter’s and Derek’s annoyed gaze with Cora’s amused one. At least someone’s having a blast out of this. The queen took a deep breath and shook his head at them.

“I’ll be back.” he promised and turned to leave. He shut the door as hard as he could on his way out, but it did little to calm him down. He wanted the same respect as Peter but he realized he will have to work for it with the Hales. “Can you believe this?!” he huffed, turning to Scott who was walking with him.

It was already a few days since Stiles was finally getting out of bed and attending to his classes and duties but Scott wasn’t really talking to him ever since. Apparently he was still having sour feelings of what Stiles had done and the boy knew it won’t be easy to gain back Scott’s trust.

“Scott…” he tried but the guard didn’t answer to him. “Please, just… talk to me. A grunt, a yell, just… something.” Stiles sighed, stopping in his tracks and turning toward his guard. “Please.” Stiles pleaded again, stepping closer.

Scott avoided his gaze, pursing his lips tightly, clearly having a hard time ignoring Stiles.

“Alright, then I will have to sing until you decide talk to me again.” the queen started and cleared his throat to start on the kingdom’s hymn. At the first few sounds Scott grabbed his arm to silence him.

“Anything but the singing…” he said quietly, shaking his head.

“Scott, you’re back!” Stiles exclaimed and put his arms around his friend.

“Stiles…” the boy sighed, not returning the hug.

“You’re still angry at me?”

“You killed… You killed those people.” the guard said. “I know what they did to you, but… I don’t think they deserved what you brought to them.”

Stiles listened quietly and pulled back when it was sure Scott won’t hug him back. He eyed the face of his friend for a while, swallowing. Then he turned and started walking, motioning to the other to follow him.

“I can’t undo this, Scott.” he started after a while, eying the ground under his slow steps.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to do it again.” Stiles added quietly. “But it’s a part of me now, you know. It will affect me and now I have to live like this. This is who I am now and… and you know, if you’re not comfortable with this, you can always leave.”

“What?” Scott frowned, tilting his head to look into the queen’s face.

“If you’re not comfortable serving me anymore, I can send you back to my father’s side.” Stiles wanted to say it with confidence, but his voice cracked in the middle of that sentence. After all, he wasn’t just sending his guard away, but his friend too. With Scott missing from next to him he didn’t know how he will even manage, but now he will have to. He has to work on keeping Peter at bay, and establishing a strong kingdom so maybe he won’t even have time missing Scott… Yet, he felt it would be easier with him by his side, but he can’t actually force him. He didn’t want to force anyone ever.

“You’re sending me away?” Scott asked quietly.

“If you want to go, you’re free to do so.” Stiles nodded and looked down because he felt like something was stabbing his chest. But it was just his heart breaking in two.

Scott didn’t answer as they were walking. Stiles was leading them to the library through long corridors, passing servants who were hurrying to get everything done for dinner. After the executions life finally crept back inside the walls of the Beacon Fortress and the people finally moved on. Though there was still a lingering fear of the royal couple and Stiles didn’t mind. It was a reputation and he had to keep it up.

“I’ll stay.” Scott said suddenly. The queen stopped in his tracks before they entered the library and turned to him.

“Wh… Are you sure, I mean… I don’t even regret what happened.” he said, wanting to know what Scott accepted.

“I know.” The boy nodded, not turning his gaze away from Stiles. “I’m not alright with it, I never will be. But you’re my friend and I wanna stay with you as long as I can.” he said determined and Stiles’ knees went weak at those words. He felt so happy and relieved he could cry. But instead he just bit his lower lip, nodding.

“Thank you… Thank you.” he said, rubbing his eyes from the dust. Totally from the dust.

\--

The celebration of spring’s end and the beginning of summer was actually connected to the old gods. But the tradition was so popular the people were still celebrating it. They thanked the gods for all the food the spring had brought and they prayed for good weather in the summer without too much drought. In the last five years the celebrations weren’t as happy as they could be because of the war. But this one seemed like a blast.

Except they were living in a fortress and it wasn’t exactly suited to welcome too many people. The old king of course threw a huge celebration in the old capital and Stiles wished he could be there, but Peter forbid him to go. He had to spend the Summer’s First Day in Beacon Fortress. He was terribly angry about that, but Scott said they could still have a good time. So Stiles tried to keep himself to that too. They might not celebrate as huge as the people in the old capital, but they can still feel good and welcome summer as she deserves it.

There might not have been too many people in the fortress for the celebration, but it seemed to be enough. This was the only celebration where the knights didn’t have to prove their virtues on the back of a horse, but in senseless drinking. There was good food on the tables of the great hall and more wine to accompany it. Stiles decided not to pass on either of them this time.

The queen and his personal guard took their share in the festivities. Practically, they were eating all day and started the drinking by dinner on the great dance. The Great Hall was filled with people and a few men were playing the songs of the new gods about summer and the summer feasts.

“What is it Your Majesty, you’re out of shape?” Scott teased his friend when Stiles stumbled a little in his twirls.

“You wish! I was always better in dancing than you.” Stiles bit back laughing as he skipped to his next partner in the roundelay. Actually laughing. He had no idea when was the last time he was laughing this much. His face was already hurting from how much he was smiling and grinning that day.

“Don’t you want to take a break?” Scott asked when the band was done with the song and took a moment to refresh themselves.

“Never!” Stiles shook his head as he accepted yet another cup of wine from his servant. It was actually good to let go a little without worrying about Peter. The king had been present too, but he was more occupied with his new laws and regulations and all the paperwork that was coming with it. Stiles wanted to peek inside those letters too, but Peter kept them as far from his queen as he could and that was pretty annoying. But this day the boy decided to turn his attention somewhere else, namely to the celebration and that he was finally having his share of the wine.

The bards started to play the new song, but the people didn’t start to dance. Stiles gave his cup away and looked around what had happened, just to spot Peter walking toward them. He was seemingly done with his boring paperwork and… wanted to dance? Stiles raised an eyebrow at Scott in a silent question. Somehow he couldn’t imagine their king would do such things as _dancing_.

Peter stepped to them and held out his hand for his wife. Stiles hesitated, but in the end he reached for Peter. Scott bowed to them slightly and moved away. If the royal couple was dancing, no one could occupy the dance floor until they gave permission. Even if Stiles was slightly drunk and his spirits were high, he was still nervous when Peter laid a soft butterfly kiss on his fingers for his dance.

“Do you know this song, my queen?” Peter started, pulling Stiles closer to him.

“I… no, no I don’t.” the boy answered, licking his lips nervously, eying the man. It was already dark outside and it was nearing midnight. The torches of the Great Hall were giving such a dreamy light to the place as if making everything softer. Peter’s features and even his glance weren’t as sharp or menacing as Stiles expected. His blue eyes were practically glowing in the warm, orange lights.

“It’s the Song of the Summer.” Peter said in his low voice which rumbled through the queen’s chest as they were standing there. “It’s the tale of the summer. How the ancient gods created the season to mock the winter.” The king spoke and finally took the first steps of his dance, holding Stiles’ hand firmly.

The queen took a sharp breath. They were never playing the ancient songs in court anymore and he had to wonder why, because they sounded _beautiful_. His lips parted as he was listening to it and somehow it brought a kind of melancholy with it that made his heart ache. He looked up at Peter, just to see the man smile. Not smirk, not mock or frown, but smile and Stiles stumbled a little.

What was happening, he wondered. As they were dancing he was practically waiting for Peter’s hand and his heart fluttered every time the man put his arm around his waist. Stiles felt like those lost souls in the tales who were longing for their lovers from across the sea. But this wasn’t the sea and he wasn’t lost. Was he? He was getting dizzy from the ache in his chest, it didn’t come from the music anymore, but from the way Peter was looking at him. Had he gotten enchanted?

Either way, the boy didn’t remember when his lips pulled into a smile, but he caught himself smiling at Peter when their dance ended with the song. His chest was feeling sore, but a kind of giddiness got him and he felt his cheeks blush from the dance.

“I shouldn’t have let you drink.” Stiles heard Peter’s soft voice and he looked up at him.

“As if you can tell me what to do.” he snorted, but his tone was more amused than annoyed. “You didn’t dance with me on our wedding.” he remarked, just realizing it.

“I doubt you were letting me touch you like that on that day.” Peter raised an eyebrow and guided Stiles back to their tables. The boy let him, squeezing back his hand strangely fondly. It was true. On the day of their wedding Stiles wanted to strangle him, not dance, and now look at them. Stiles wondered if he was giving up.

They sat back down to their table, and the people on the dance floor gave space for the group of firedancers who had come to the fortress just for this occasion. It was tradition that on every Summer Celebration there must be firedancers to bring the heat of the summer along. Stiles always loved to watch them and there had been a short time when he had wanted to be one. Then he realized that fire can burn you. He preferred to just watch the dancers from then on.

In the middle of the performance Peter slowly stood from next to him, probably to leave. Stiles blinked at him confused and wondered if he should follow him. In the end he hurried after the king.

“You should at least say good night!” he said when he could catch up to Peter. The man turned with a slight surprise on his face.

“After just one dance you’re unusually demanding.” he remarked amused and stepped to Stiles. The boy flushed from anger. He didn’t want to fight, not on this day.

“I was just trying to teach you some manners.” he sighed, his gaze dropping on Peter’s lips. Why. Why did he do that. Why would he look at the man’s lips. As if expecting a kiss. Why would he expect something like that?! Just because their last time in bed wasn’t that awful, or because Peter’s touches were warm or when they were dancing Stiles’ heart was beating like it wanted to run away? Or because Peter was looking at him in the same way?

Stiles gasped softly when he spotted his king eying him with the same half lidded eyes. They were on the corridors by the Great Hall with only a few guards around and the only light was the light of the torches from the Great Hall. It was almost like they were meeting in secret. Stiles licked his lips and finally leaned in to kiss his husband.

For the queen’s greatest surprise Peter let him. Their kiss was soft and tasted slightly of wine and something sweet Stiles hadn’t tasted before. The man’s stubble was brushing against his chin as he tilted his head to press his lips more against Peter’s. Then a hand sneaked on his neck, cupping the back of his head. The king’s tongue swiped over his lower lip and Stiles felt slight shame over how quickly he opened his mouth for him. A strong tongue slipped past his lips, rubbing against his own, inviting it into a kind of dance that made his knees weak.

Peter kissed him like he really wanted him and Stiles said yes. And that scared them both, because when the noise from the Great Hall got louder they broke the kiss as if they were doing something forbidden. Stiles knew he swore loyalty to Peter, but he was still the enemy and he shouldn’t kiss the enemy…

The king dropped his hand from his neck and the boy shivered from the loss of warmth. Licking his lips, he raised his gaze to meet with Peter’s again, but the man already turned to leave. Stiles just realized he was out of breath and that his cheeks were definitely blushing from something other than the wine. He watched Peter disappear in the dark corridors, like what had just happened was only a dream. Maybe it really was. All Stiles knew was that it left him extremely confused and he wasn’t sure he was ready for anything like this…

\--

Peter was sure that when he became king the voices will _stop_ ; the voices will die out and leave him at peace. The _voices_. They indeed died out at first, he could hear the silence at times but then the voices and the screams came back again, loud death screams. He could smell the burning flesh and feel the desperation and fear that engulfed him together with the flames.

For a while he could use the voices and the images as an anchor. It kept him grounded; his pursuit for revenge made him keep his leftover sanity and kept him from going completely mad under the full moon’s spell. But he felt the tugging in the back of his mind stronger and stronger each night. For some reason his anchor wasn’t working anymore. It frustrated him because if he was proven to be unable to tend to his Alpha duties, Derek will have all the right to tear his throat out. Well, if he can before Peter tears him into pieces. It was a fight that was overdue for almost five years now and it left them both on the edge. Peter could convince Derek to help him with taking over the kingdom, but now that they were the royal family that promise had been fulfilled. Derek was waiting for the opening Peter would give him to take him out.

Peter knew he will have to fight with his family again to strengthen his powers, but it seemed a bit difficult when the damn voices were screaming inside his head everyday and night and the full moon was creeping up on him and he had a loudmouth wife who had to be kept out of private Hale matters. He didn’t even realize when he snapped. His wolf just took over that night and the screams were louder than before and the moon crawled on his skin worse than usual.

He gave in the urge to howl, but it wasn’t for his pack. It was for everyone to stay away because he’s out for blood tonight; and ran. He wanted to see trees and grass and the sky, but all he saw were the frightening walls of the fortress and lit torches. He was trapped. He must have been trapped; he thought, and it made him mad. No, he won’t be burned alive. Not _again_. Peter roared and slammed his monstrous hand against the nearest torch.

There were screams and yells around him or inside his head, he had no idea and he didn’t care. He was too far gone to care. He started running and that moment he felt pain shoot into his arm. Someone bit him, judging by her smell, it was Cora.

Peter snarled at the other wolf, swinging his arm to get rid of her. She wasn’t any match for him, she was small and weak, but with a strong bite. But it was useless as Peter smashed them both into the nearest wall, forcing Cora to let go of him. The next moment arrows shot past his ears and he turned to meet the guards. They didn’t shoot anymore but turned and ran. Peter pursued them with a loud growl.

Derek attacked quick and unexpected. He could hide so Peter didn’t pick up his scent until the last moment and it was already too late. Derek pounced on his back,bit into his neck and attempted to take out a big chunk of flesh. Peter saw red when the scent of his own blood filled his nose and swayed his arms around to drag the other wolf off his back.

Peter was twice Derek’s size, but he was unpredictable and blinded and deaf by his insanity. Derek was more tactical; despite Peter’s crazy behavior he knew how to attack him. And Peter knew that. The pain momentarily brought him back to his senses and he started running away, with Derek still biting at the back of his neck. Then he spotted a window and jumped; falling from their tower to the fortress grounds. Peter tried to angle his body to slam Derek into the ground first.

The Alpha’s plan worked, because the moment they hit the dirt Derek let him go, spitting out a few of his teeth. The impact also took effect on Peter; his vision doubled and his body didn’t move as he wanted it to. He spotted his nephew’s body not far away and he decided to end it here and now. He roared and made his way toward him.

Then there were the screams again. And the fire and flesh burning and Peter shook his head, looking around. The house was collapsing around him and he was trapped and all of them were going to die. He roared, feeling his lungs burn with the hot air. He trashed around, trying to free himself, trying to run, but there was nowhere to go. The windows and doors were sealed with mountain ash and they couldn’t get out. _They couldn’t get out_.

A stabbing pain dragged Peter back to where he really was. A spear was piercing through his shoulder and it _hurt_. It was coated in wolfsbane and it took its effect the moment it went through the wolf’s skin. Peter howled and looked over his attacker with a hazy vision. It was Scott. He was holding the spear with all his strength, determined to stop the monster.

Peter growled at him and grabbed the spear. He didn’t want to pull it out, oh no, he pushed it in deeper until it pierced through his shoulder and he pulled the guard closer this way. Before Scott could let go of his weapon, Peter reached him. Biting a human wasn’t anything like biting a wolf. They were fragile, disgusting and cold. Their blood smelled foul mixed with the scent of their fear, fueling Peter’s rage. He was determined to take a bite out the boy’s side, leaving him to bleed out, but at his surprise Scott still had fight in him. Peter heard his sword leaving its scabbard and its edge slashed over his face making him let go of the boy. Scott could get away and Peter was blind from the blood that covered his face and eyes. He shook his head; roaring like a wild animal, cursing all gods new and old and even the ancient.

With his dying strength he wiped the blood from his face to see.  He’d gotten scared. He feared he was dying and he was going to lose and everything he was fighting for will collapse. He would die as a rabid monster.

The wolf saw Scott on the ground writhing from pain, blood pooling around him and someone was kneeling next to him. Peter smelled tears and… Stiles. The boy wasn’t looking at him but held Scott’s arm, trying to get him on his feet. Without knowing what he was doing, Peter took a few wobbly steps toward them and that got Stiles’ attention. He looked up at him with wide, scared eyes and for the first time in his life Peter didn’t feel happy about his fear.

He wheezed; spit and blood dropping from between his teeth on the ground and there was nothing that was keeping him from jumping over at both Stiles and Scott with just one movement.

“Stop it… just, stop it.” he heard Stiles whisper in a choked up voice and Peter felt every bit of his strength leave his body. The spear with the wolfsbane was still stuck in his shoulder, draining all of his strength, and Peter welcomed it as an old friend. He felt cold air engulf him as he collapsed on the ground.

\--

“So what are we researching exactly?” Scott asked absently taking a book from one of the shelves in the library.

“Mythology.” Stiles answered as he got on the ladder to reach some of the higher shelves too. “Fairy tales, tales of the old gods and other lore.” he muttered and quickly retrieved three books.

“Are you sure this is research.” Scott scoffed. “It sounds like you’re just trying everything to avoid today’s classes too.”

“Hey, Professor Harris said it’s either the library or the harp and fairly, I would choose anything over the harp.” the queen snorted. “How will the harp ever help me, huh? I’m terrible at it. People would pay me to stop!” he said, flailing his arms a little. “So research it is.”

Scott sighed, agreeing, because Stiles was really terrible with all musical instruments. He rather listened to the library’s silence than Stiles trying to play any harp at the moment.

“Alright then… anything specific, or something?” he asked, spreading his arms at his friend. Stiles just bit in his lower lip and looked around if they were alone and stepped closer to the guard.

“It’s about the Hales.” he started quietly, and Scott wanted to roll his yes.

“Don’t tell me you believe those rumors about them…” he sighed.

“No, I don’t…” Stiles started, but it wasn’t exactly convincing. “Well, maybe. It’s just…” he sighed, biting at his lower lip.

“It’s just?” Scott asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Peter… his skin. You know his body is, like, he doesn’t have scars.” Stiles explained flailing a little. “And his skin is warmer than anyone else I know, and–“

“Whoah, brother!” Scott started, holding up his hands. “I don’t know any of that, I- I wasn’t really that close to him. Or even saw him shirtless ever and fairly I don’t even want to.”

“Hey, what?!” Stiles gasped, but he felt himself blushing a little. “I can’t tell you this much while I had to suffer through how you and Lady Argent were- you know! Consider this revenge, alright?” he scolded and Scott just rubbed his eyes as if trying to kick the images of Peter’s naked body out of his mind.

“Alright, so what’s the deal?” he asked at last.

“I’m just saying that he’s a warlord, you know? A warrior, a fighter and he’s obviously good at fighting. How come he doesn’t have scars, not even small ones? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“But it makes sense that he’s a… fairy.” Scott snorted, looking at the books Stiles was holding.

“Well- not a fairy, no! But… maybe he’s enchanted, or something?” Stiles sighed and sat down by the table to start reading. Scott joined him with a suffering sigh.

Magic spells and enchanted creatures weren’t so uncommon on their lands back in the day, when the old gods were ruling over them. Fairy tales and a few of the bard’s tales were still telling about half-animal humans, horses with horns, small birdlike women and of course the mysterious creatures of the sea.  Some people in the kingdom swore they could still spot all of these creatures and Stiles even knew an old man who could perform magic, also Deaton’s practice was somehow close to potion making.

Ever since the new gods had arrived, the power of the old gods might have been dying and their creations had gotten scarce but that didn’t mean they weren’t around. Stiles was sure that Peter either had one of these creatures to provide him power or he’d asked a magician for strength.

Either way, there was something about Peter Hale.

Stiles actually grew suspicious when Deaton visited him after the night of his wedding and asked about a marking. What kind of marking he was talking about, Stiles always wondered. Maybe the mark of the Hales, maybe every Hale had received it. Stiles had so many theories but he had so little facts to work with and he still wasn’t sure if he should search for a spell or a creature.

They stayed in the library late that night and Stiles even asked his dinner to be brought there. He had found absolutely nothing that would have been the answer to any of his questions, but he thought at least he’d educated himself on all the spells. Maybe they could come in handy one day.

Just when Scott decided they should really get going, a low rumble shook the fortress and screams emerged from the silence of the night. The guards’ yells got covered by a loud howl. As if the men were trying to fight with an animal. Stiles frowned over the half open door just in time to see something huge run by followed by guards. It was just like the monster his father would tell him about at night when he wanted to scare him.

“What was that…?” Scott asked in a hollow voice and looked at his friend. Stiles didn’t answer, just jumped from his seat and ran to the door, opening it without fear. His curiosity got the better of him and Scott had to pull him back to the library. “Are you crazy, what if it kills you?!” he hissed at the queen and pulled his sword and peaked out again.

“What if it kills _you_?!” Stiles hissed and peeked out to see what was happening, but he couldn’t see through the crowd of guards. Then Deaton pushed his way through them, looking extremely worried and ran down the corridor.

“Professor Deaton!” Stiles called after him, at the same time when he heard someone scream. It sounded like Cora, and Scott turned his head to Stiles to get permission to leave and find out what kind of animal was going rampant on the corridors of the fortress. But Stiles didn’t give permission, instead he hurried after Deaton, grabbing his arm. “What the hell is going on?”

“Your Majesty…!” the emissary looked at Stiles alarmed for a second. “Why aren’t you in your room?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant to what’s happening right now! We saw a monster and now it sounds like it’s chewing up half our men.” The queen snapped, motioning to the other end of the corridor. Deaton sighed nervously, eying the two boys. “And I suppose you know more than me about it. Why else would you--!”

“Stiles!” Scott screamed and grabbed the queen to drag him with him to the nearest door embrasure. Stiles felt his back hit the door, the doorknob digging into his side, but Scott pressed him hard against it to shield him. Deaton slammed his back to the door at the same time too and both Scott and the emissary were looking over the corridors where the monster went. It was running back.

Stiles’ heart almost stopped at the sight. The monster was _huge_ ; taking up all the space the corridors provided. Since there were only a few torches lit, the whole size of the creature was stolen by the darkness, but Stiles could still guess how huge it was. It had similarities to a wolf and to a _man_ and Stiles knew in that moment that it was a werewolf. His eyes were glowing red and he was running on hind legs, but his whole body was covered in dark grey fur. It swayed his strong arms around; clawed hands were trying to reach something on his back. It was another werewolf! He was smaller in size and appeared saner than the monster. He was biting down at his neck, causing dark blood to flow down the monster’s neck.

Stiles also realized he knew the features of that wolf.

“Derek…?” he whispered and he heard Deaton sigh next to him. The werewolves ran all the way to the end of the corridor, thankfully unbothered by the small group. Then the beast jumped and threw himself through one of the windows. Without thinking about what he was doing, Stiles ran after them, leaning out of the window too.

“Stiles, to the new gods..!” Scott gasped running after him.

“What was that?!” the queen asked, turning back to Deaton.

“We don’t have much time. Come with me, Your Majesty.” The emissary said and hurried away with Stiles close on his heels. He might get answers to his questions finally.

“Is that the thing Peter keeps? It’s a werewolf, right? Was that Derek on his back? Derek is a werewolf?” he asked as they were hurrying through corridors, littered with injured guards on their way to the fortress grounds.

Even inside the building they could hear the insane howling and roaring of the monster and it was absolutely terrifying. Stiles suddenly wondered if it’s a good idea to get so close to him, but his curiosity was bigger than his fear in that moment. Deaton didn’t answer any of his questions, but the sight of the two werewolves was enough to confirm some of his suspicions. There was indeed something going on with the Hales.

They arrived to the grounds, just to see Derek laying there without any sign of life and Stiles got nervous. The other wolf was making his way toward him, probably to make sure he’s dead. But before he reached the body he froze and suddenly looked around. Stiles gasped, taking a step back, but the beast didn’t charge at them, no, it started biting against air and pushing away invisible enemies. He was seeing things neither of them could.

The movements of the monster reminded Stiles of an old, senile animal. But he wasn’t weak, no. If this wolf wanted to he could take out everyone in the fortress. Where was Peter anyway, when a werewolf was running amok on fortress grounds?

“Where is-“ Stiles turned to Deaton but the moment he started his question and looked into the man’s eyes, he knew. He just knew, because it all made too much sense. His stomach dropped and his lungs grew half their size. The queen swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat and turned his gaze back to the insane monster.

It was Peter. The monster was Peter Hale.

“I wanted you to see.” Deaton said quietly when he saw Stiles’ realization. The boy stared at Peter with parted lips and he wasn’t sure he wanted to believe the sight. It was the answer he was looking for, but still something he needed time to adapt to. That his husband, the king of the country, was a beast; a werewolf.

“Soon he could kill us all in his blind fury.” the emissary said and looked around them. In any other case Stiles would have been alarmed how _calm_ the man sounded. As if something like this was regular with Peter. “We need a weapon.”

“This will do?” Scott asked, carrying a few spears with him. They kept them near for practicing, and Deaton nodded in approval. He quickly took one and fished out something from the sleeve of his cowl. Stiles didn’t see it because he was still too occupied with staring at Peter.

The beast had probably killed a few guards that night, he hurt his own family -who were also werewolves- and now he was acting like an insane, rabid _dog_. Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about all that.

“Move!” Scott’s voice pulled him out of his daze as he hurried past him with the spear in his hands. Stiles stumbled out of his way, still in a state of shock, and watched Scott take on the beast, feeling utterly helpless.

“Scott!” he shouted when the boy really went and stabbed Peter. The wolf seemed like he was snapping out of his hallucinations and now his bloody, red eyes were on Scott. Stiles’ stomach dropped and he was ready to run to them, but Deaton grabbed his arm.

“It’s coated with wolfsbane it will be alright!” he said, but he didn’t sound too convincing. It certainly didn’t help Stiles, especially when he saw Peter pushing the weapon through his shoulder like it was nothing. He had gotten awfully close to Scott that way.

“ _Scott_!” Stiles screamed, he freed himself from Deaton’s grip and ran toward the scene. He saw Peter biting his friend the moment he could finally get his sword and slash at him. Peter roared and stumbled back, letting Scott go. Stiles ignored the danger and Deaton’s calls as he hurried to his friend, grabbing his shoulder.

“Come, let me help!” he started, suddenly aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks. Stiles wiped them away frustrated and tried not to think about what he would do if Scott dies on him. He would definitely go mad, too. Scott groaned from pain and he was bleeding a lot and Stiles was getting really scared. Then he heard a low growl and looked up just to see Peter looking at them with those crazy eyes. Stiles had never been so scared in his life. He clutched Scott’s arm tightly, but he couldn’t look away from Peter. His body was trembling from fear and his ears were ringing.

“Stop it.” he heard himself say. “Just stop this…” he sniffed.

For Stiles’ greatest surprise and relief, Peter collapsed on the ground in the next moment. The silence that followed the howling of the beast hit Stiles like lightning. His breath picked up as he was looking around the grounds. There was no one around… No guards, no people. Just them and the wolves.

“I told everyone to stay away.” Deaton explained when he saw Stiles’ confused stare.

“You knew this will happen!? What did exactly happen?!” Stiles asked, then shook his head. That wasn’t his priority right now. “Scott, Scott, are you okay, brother, are you okay?” he asked the boy, shaking his shoulders. Scott wasn’t conscious and Stiles got more afraid. His hands were shaking and his own breath was trying to choke him. “He bit him, he bit him!” he told Deaton.

“I saw.” the man said kneeling next to them and quickly checked the boy. “Calm down, Your Majesty.”

“I _am_ calm! Will Scott be alright, please, please I must know if he’s going to be alright… He can’t…” he panted, looking down at the guard.

“He’s still breathing.” Deaton said. “He will be… fine.” he added, and stood up. “I’m getting help. Please wait here, Your Majesty.” he said and hurried away. Stiles watched him go, listening to his own breathing. His hands were on Scott’s chest, as if trying to keep his soul from leaving his body for good.

Stiles looked over to Peter’s and Derek’s bodies. They were humans again and Peter still had a spear through his shoulder and a few arrows in his side, but the huge gash on his face was already healing up. It looked like the scene of a massacre but Stiles knew that both of the wolves were still alive and he hated every single one of the Hales in that moment with a burning passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I showed this part at a Nano meeting and one of the feedbacks was that my werewolves aren't scary enough. Though that person wasn't actually familiar with Teen Wolf... XD


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Evy, all other mistakes are mine~

Stiles stomped through the corridors which were still bloody from the events of last night. He didn’t sleep that night either, but stayed in the nursery with Scott. He prayed for all the gods to not take him, but he wasn’t sure that the god who listened was the right one.

He ignored the guards by Peter’s door and he barged in without knocking or any warning.

Deaton looked up surprised to see him, but Peter didn’t. He kept his eyes closed and his head was hanging as he was sitting on a stool. He wasn’t wearing any shirt as his emissary was working on cleaning the wound the spear had left so it could heal.

“Leave.” the king said in a low voice, but it just fueled Stiles’ anger. He crossed the distance between them and punched Peter’s injured shoulder. It caused a loud hiss and the man jumped up from his seat, turning to him. “I said leave, before I make you!”

“I’m not leaving until you present me a completely acceptable explanation of what the hell that was last night!” Stiles shouted, pointing back at the door.

“I can smell your fear and I can guarantee it can get real.” Peter hissed, not intimidated at all. Of course, why would he be. He was a beast thrice Stiles’ size. “You saw everything last night, what else is there to talk about at this point?”

“For example why didn’t you tell me before?!” the queen was still shouting. “I’m your wife, I’m the queen and I told you I’ll stand next to you and I was expecting you to be _honest_ with me!”

Peter pursed his lips, glaring at Stiles.

“This isn’t something you were supposed to know.” he remarked.

“Oh, oh do you think so? Do you really think so!? So I was supposed to just sit around while _some_ rabid monstrous wolf kills half the guards- oh and, I’m sorry you weren’t exactly gentle with your own family either!” the boy ranted, flailing his arms. “I’m _supposed_ to know these things!”

“Now you know. And it won’t happen again.” Peter sighed and went to retrieve the stool to sit down.

“What the hell happened exactly anyway?!” Stiles hissed, going after him. “You were looking different from Derek and Cora, you’re stronger too!”

“It’s because I’m the Alpha, the leader of the pack.” Peter answered and motioned to Deaton to continue cleaning his wound. Stiles almost clawed at his face at the mention of a ‘pack’ because how many are there still out there?!

“You were so leader-like last night.” Stiles remarked, earning another glare from Peter. He also didn’t miss that the wolf didn’t answer about what happened; that why he was going rampant out of the blue. “Are there many of you?”

“Enough.” Peter nodded and Stiles wanted to hit him again.

“You should have told me!” he pressed.

“You get to keep your secrets too, don’t you?” Peter snapped, growling at him this time. Stiles took a step back, because he had seen what Peter was capable of. He fisted his hands by his sides as he was glaring at the man.

“You bit Scott.”

“And?”

“What should I tell his mother, or his lady now?! He was in my care and I let him down! He’s going to be like you!” Stiles yelled.

“He’s not going to be like me!” Peter started loudly, purely irritated by Stiles’ bare presence. “It’s not even sure he will be able to turn!” he added.

“Wha- you _bit_ him! If a werewolf bites a human it’s either good bye life or hello fur coat, there is no in-between!” the queen yelled. He read the books last night while he was sitting next to Scott. He read everything he found on werewolves and this was one thing he was sure of: the bite was a huge deal.

“Not anymore.” Deaton spoke this time. Stiles frowned at him. “Werewolves are the beasts of the old gods.” the man started, his gaze flickering to Peter in a silent question if he can go on. “And the old gods are leaving this land, Your Majesty. Their magic is fading. The bite of an Alpha might not turn a human.”

Stiles stared at Deaton. So there was still hope for Scott. He might be able to make it without having to turn into a wolf every full moon.

“If he turns…” Peter started, eying his queen. “He will be a Beta of mine, and you should be happy I’m not sending him to the border with the rest.” he added, rubbing his face almost tired.

“What?!” the queen frowned. “Why would your… Betas are at the border? What _is_ at the border?” he asked again, tilting his head to the side, but Peter turned to him again.

“I _adore_ our chats, darling, but they can get overwhelming. Leave now, or this country will have to do without a queen.” The king said, letting his eyes glow red and Stiles gulped. Cursing Peter, he turned to leave. He couldn’t believe that after what happened Peter was the one acting as the victim. Still being secretive, still not telling him important things. Stiles was having enough of this.

“You’re going to tell me everything!” he shouted at Derek. He wanted to shout with him for a while so it felt good to do it. Derek and Cora were in the royal nursery, where Scott was lying too, but without any actual nurses around. Deaton was the one handling their injuries, because apparently werewolves heal a bit differently. Stiles decided to hit more of the books the moment he had some free time.

“Why? Don’t you _know_ everything already?” Derek snorted, crossing his arms as he was leaning his back on the headrest.

“I swear to all the gods you can’t deny the family relation.” Stiles groaned. “What happened last night?”

At his question, Derek looked over at Cora and Scott. They were both still asleep, healing. Stiles was worried he wouldn’t answer, but in the end the man turned his head back to him.

“It happens sometimes. Near full moons.” he started in a low voice. “With Peter.”

“What…?” the boy frowned leaning closer because Derek was talking quietly. His voice lacked that edge which was reserved for any stranger outside his family. Stiles swallowed when he realized what that meant.

“There are gossips about it too.” Derek continued. “About him being insane. It’s true.”

“Shit.” Stiles swallowed and felt the need to sit down. He’s collapsed in the chair nearby. He was thinking about Peter’s stance from last night and it indeed didn’t seem too sane to him and now Derek confirmed it.

“He’s not whole.” Derek spoke.

“What… what do you mean…” Stiles asked, shaking his head, trying to keep up.

“Have you seen his wolf form? That’s not how an Alpha wolf is supposed to look.” as the man was talking his gaze got distant and angry. Stiles could see his muscles tense under his shirt, as if the images he’d seen were causing him so much pain he somehow tried to protect himself. “He isn’t supposed to be Alpha either.”

At that last remark, Stiles froze. He tilted his head to look at Derek; to really look at him. And he saw the spark which actually worried him: Derek wasn’t loyal to his uncle. Stiles licked his lips before he asked his question.

“Who’s supposed to be the Alpha then?”

Derek looked at him and Stiles saw sorrow so thick it almost choked him.

“My sister, Laura.” Derek’s voice was low and tired. Stiles stared at him, trying to remember everything he learned about the Hales these five years. But the relevant information was scarce, since they were indeed secretive.

“Peter killed her.” Derek continued, looking over Cora who was slowly becoming awake and listening in on their conversation.

Stiles felt a stab in his chest. Peter killed one of their own family to achieve his powers. That’s how far he would go to get what he wanted.

“It happened not long after the fire.” It was Cora who snapped him back to reality.

“The… the fire?” Stiles frowned. It actually rang a bell; the Hales and how most of the family got wiped out by a fire.

“We were out hunting.” Cora continued and sat up in her bed. “We only knew something had happened when it was too late and we were too scared to go back for days.”

“We found Peter then. Still alive, but badly burned.” Derek muttered, eying something on his sheets, but his nostrils widened in anger.

“Who… who did it?” Stiles asked, somehow having difficulty to speak.

“Hunters.” Derek answered. “They locked up every exit of the house and burned it down. Because we’re werewolves. We aren’t creatures of this world anymore with the new gods and the new era can’t arrive with old beasts in it.” As the man spoke his voice turned bitter and cynical. Stiles swallowed, because he knew about that prophecy too. But he didn’t believe that his father would straight out give orders to kill a family just because they were werewolves.

“No.” he snapped. “No, my father wouldn’t have… done anything like that.”

Derek and Cora looked at him and they actually weren’t convinced. Stiles could see that in their eyes and it frustrated him beyond everything.

“Uncle Peter became obsessed. He says he doesn’t want this to happen again. We just wanted peace…” Cora started.

“But when we realized he was too far gone there was no way back.” Derek said, turning his eyes at Stiles again. “He’s insane and he isn’t a good man, Stiles. It’s getting worse as years go by and now that he’s king it could get more destructive.” he told him, and Stiles could feel what Derek wanted from his words.

Derek wanted to kill his uncle.

Stiles sat there, trying to wrap his mind around what he had heard and of what had happened. He’d gotten a few questions answered, but it still left a lot more. He hated this and he hated being so helpless about this all. There was a monster on the throne who was insane and would kill his own family to gain what he wants: power.

The Hales weren’t gods; they weren’t witches, immortals or undead: they were victims, struggling under the claws of one of their own. Stiles felt slightly dizzy as he was thinking about it. He didn’t like how things were turning out, not at all.

“What are you going to do now?” he half asked it to himself too. That’s why he was slightly alarmed when Derek answered.

“Something I should have done years ago.” he said, leaning closer to Stiles. “He proved that he’s not capable anymore of being an Alpha and we can take him on. We could restore the kingdom.” he commented.

Stiles straightened his back.

“What…?” he breathed. His suspicion was right: Derek wanted to murder Peter, and he wanted to do it as soon as possible. Since it wasn’t even a year since Peter’s coronation, the moment his death is declared the old king would receive back all his rights to the throne again. Stiles’ father could be king again.

“I’ll help.” Stiles said before he could stop himself. The worry he felt for Scott and the shock he experienced last night got to him. He decided to not let Peter take over his kingdom. Yes, he promised to support him, but that was before he realized he was an insane beast who killed his own family.

The decision should have been easy, considering how he wanted back the old kingdom without Peter Hale in it, and yet the queen felt a strange tug in the middle of his chest.

\--

Derek and Cora healed pretty fast after such an assault, Stiles wondered as he was still sitting by Scott. The boy was unconscious for more than two days, but Deaton actually said it’s a good sign. It might be, because his body was fighting the bite.

The time next to Scott gave Stiles enough time to catch up on werewolf folklore and refresh his knowledge on the old gods and even on the new gods. He thought the shift in their religion was going smoothly, because since he was born all he had heard was about the miracles of the new gods and how they are so powerful. He was even sure that the old gods were only the characters of the old myths. Apparently, they were still around if werewolves could still run on their lands.

And then Scott woke up. Stiles jumped from his chair, leaning over him.

“Hey, Scott, buddy…” he started, really glad the boy seemed to be doing fine. Scott frowned up at him and attempted to get up, but Stiles pushed him down. “Oh, no no, you- I think you should stay like that until I get Professor Deaton.”

“What happened?” Scott asked confused, his voice sounded pretty weak and Stiles tried not to panic as he hurried to get a servant to fetch the emissary.

When Professor Deaton arrived he checked Scott and his bite. Stiles vaguely wondered if this was the marking he was asking about the other day. If Peter had bitten him. Deaton was concerned about him turning into a werewolf way before all this…

“Looks like…” the emissary started, smiling at Scott. “You’re going to do fine.”

“Will… Will I turn?” Scott asked concerned and Deaton sighed.

“You probably won’t.” he said. “But for the next few months, you’ll be kind of sick. You might experience fevers and pain. I’m certain it won’t take longer than that for your body to heal from the bite.”

“So… so he’s going to be alright?” Stiles asked.

“Yes. He will.” Deaton smiled. “But for the next few months he wouldn’t pass a werewolf trial.” He added as a kind of joke. Stiles sighed relieved, collapsing at the side of the bed.

“You don’t ever scare me like that!” he pointed at Scott. His friend just smiled a little and shrugged sheepishly.

Scott was going to be alright. Because the old gods aren’t strong anymore. And werewolves aren’t needed in this new world order, Stiles wondered.

But what do the new gods say about a werewolf who fought his way to be king?

\--

Stiles knew that Derek wanted to act as soon as possible, but when he presented him the dagger he still felt it was too soon.

“I thought… _you_ would take him out?” he asked as he was eying the dagger in his hand. It was the same kind Peter was carrying with him whenever they slept together. They hadn’t been with each other since the night Stiles swore loyalty to him, but from time to time Peter visited him to sleep next to him for a few hours. Derek explained it was because of scent marking and Stiles felt extremely violated at that news. Every time when Peter visited him he carried the dagger that could cut anyone but him and slipped it under his pillow.

Stiles asked why he was carrying it and he said he had had a few attacks during the night. The dagger was the proof Peter didn’t really sleep good at all. Now that the boy was thinking about it, he didn’t really see Peter sleep much.

“It’s the most discrete way to do it.” Derek answered and stepped closer to Stiles, running his hands down the back of his neck. The boy gasped, stumbling back at the sudden invasion of his personal space.

“What- what the hell was that!?” he asked, holding up the dagger at Derek. The man sighed irritated and crossed his arms, apparently feeling just as violated as Stiles.

“You have my scent now.” he explained. “Peter will claim you back either tonight or tomorrow. Either way, he’s going to spend a few hours with you one of these nights. Be prepared and if the time is right, use the dagger.”

Stiles licked his lips, looking away. Suddenly it felt so real: the plan to kill Peter. It was always just a theory, a _dream_ and now he was holding the very weapon that could make it into something more real.

“Will this really kill him?” he asked, eying the weapon again, turning it around in his hands.

“The blade is enchanted and coated with wolfsbane.” Derek explained. “Just drive it through his heart and he won’t be able to heal. Can you do that?”

The question was simple, but Stiles felt himself finding it difficult to answer. He detested Peter, hated him and he was still afraid of him. Peter took everything from him: his country, his title, his father, because of his personal mission for power and he didn’t even care about anyone. The man was certainly a beast and no one would miss him and the king could reclaim his title. And yet, Stiles still felt a small hesitation.

“Is this really the best option?” he asked, sighing.

“Peter wasn’t on the throne too long, his death wouldn’t shake the kingdom that much. Cora and I are still here and the people are loyal to the family, not to Peter.” Derek said.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, tilting his head.

“Stiles, you said you will help us.”

“I did, yes, but…” the boy sighed, rubbing his face. “Alright, alright.” he sighed and slipped the dagger into his belt with a tight stomach. Somehow, the much awaited feeling of ‘revenge’ didn’t hit him. He was more confused than prepared for this battle.

\--

That night Peter requested a private dinner with Stiles, which usually led to him staying for a few hours. The queen was waiting for him in his chamber by the table as the servants were preparing their meal. Stiles wasn’t sure if he will be able to eat at all, he was too nervous. The dagger was resting in the bed, under his pillow, and he had to force himself not to look that way too many times.

Stiles also realized this will be the first occasion he will spend private time with Peter after the night he went berserk. Maybe it will be their last one even. Either Stiles manages to kill Peter or he will be too slow and Peter ends him on the spot. He was capable of that. At that thought his breath hitched. Everything was going so fast and Stiles wasn’t sure if it was good. Before he could think more about it, Peter arrived to his chamber. He quietly sent the servants away and took his seat across from Stiles at the table.

Peter was just as fearsome and cold when Stiles had first seen him in his father’s throne room. He had a confident smirk that time and his eyes were burning with the feeling of victory. This night, however, Peter’s smirk wasn’t present and he seemed like he hadn’t been sleeping much either. Maybe he really is going madder by the day and death would be redemption for him. The kingdom handles a dead king far better than an insane one, Stiles told himself.

“Are you aware, that I can hear your heartbeat?” Peter asked then in a low voice, not even looking up from his meal. Stiles swallowed. It wasn’t a good sign Peter could tell when he was nervous. Especially not tonight.

“Are you aware that it’s not fair?” he snapped and finally met Peter’s gaze. “That you know more about my heartbeat than I do!?”

“I think it’s handy.” Peter remarked, frowning lightly. “I can catch liars and traitors.” Stiles felt slight dizziness hit him. He was really nervous and scared, but if he wanted to pull through with his mission he had to get a grip. To calm himself he reached for his wine and gulped down a little. He felt the alcohol already taking its effect and Stiles didn’t mind. Calmness washed over him, but still not enough for his taste, though he wasn’t about to drink more.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” he started suddenly.

“About?” Peter asked.

“About how you’re a damned werewolf! It’s been days, the guards are still in shock; there are rumors and the royal huntsmen are on their way here.” Stiles snapped, motioning around with his hand. The rumors either spoke about a bear or a wolf and yes, there was the werewolf version too. But either way, Stiles has gotten his father’s letter about how he will send over his best hunters for safety. As if he didn’t have enough problems without them.

“I already told you, you have nothing to do with it and the hunters won’t find anything.” Peter hissed and Stiles almost threw a fork at him. He was ready to serve him, to be his proper wife and support him and Peter apparently didn’t want or need any of that. Stiles wasn’t sure how he was feeling about it, but he was definitely not happy at all.

The queen also gave up on his dinner for that night. At least yelling at Peter helped his mood a little, he could get rid of some of his irritation. He eyed his pillow as he was getting rid of his trousers to change into his night attire, but then a nose bumped into the back of his neck, making him jump. He didn’t even hear Peter walk up behind him.

“You were with Derek today?” the king asked and Stiles swallowed nervously.

“We talked yes…” he answered nodding.

“Did he touch you?” Peter asked. “Don’t answer, I know he did.”

“You can really smell that?” Stiles asked in disbelief. “It was just for a second.” he said, but the next moment he wondered if it was the best thing to retort to Peter. He could feel him tense up behind him even if he wasn’t touching him.

“Undress.” Peter growled as he turned away to do the same. Stiles’ heart skipped a beat and he hoped Peter won’t find it suspicious. He took off his tunic and put on his nightshirt. Without looking at Peter he crawled on the bed, sitting by his pillow with the dagger under it. Stiles turned his head back to Peter in time to see him placing his own dagger on the nightstand and getting rid of his own clothes. Though he always kept his trousers on the nights he was just scent-marking Stiles.

Peter crawled on the bed too, reaching for Stiles. The boy wasn’t sure what he was about to do but he thought if he’s not acting right then and there he either gets caught or he never acts at all. So he grabbed Peter’s wrist and pulled him to himself using his momentary instability to push him down on the bed and straddled his hips to keep him in place.

When Stiles was sure Peter was trapped for the few seconds he needed, he quickly grabbed the dagger and raised it to drive it through the wolf’s torso. He wanted to see the blood coming out of Peter’s chest; he wanted to see him dead for that second. But his arm didn’t move; Stiles didn’t strike. For a moment he thought Peter grabbed him, but he realized no one was restraining him. He just didn’t stab Peter.

Stiles’ vision doubled as he was staring down at the man’s chest, right at the point he wanted to pierce through but didn’t. He _hesitated_. When his brain finally processed that, he also knew he was too late, Peter will smite him on the spot and Stiles couldn’t even blink from the shock and fear. But nothing happened.

After a moment of tense silence and the only sound being his breathing, Peter was the one who spoke.

“My heart… is here.” he said, slowly raising his hand to point at the middle of his chest, eying the boy who was straddling him. Stiles swallowed, watching Peter’s fingers point at his own chest, then raised his eyes to meet the king’s.

“What…” he panted, just realizing he’s going to have an attack soon. He squeezed the hilt of the dagger and placed the tip of the blade where Peter pointed.

“If that’s an enchanted dagger, just like mine, then only one stab through the heart will end me.” Peter continued and Stiles was desperately searching for that mocking undertone he heard every time Peter was talking. But it wasn’t there, somehow Peter’s tone wasn’t even scared or angry, it was _casual_. He wasn’t begging for his life. It was like he almost wanted Stiles to do it. To end it forever.

The boy’s hand trembled as he watched the tip of the blade make a small cut on Peter’s skin. It wasn’t healing. It would really kill him. Stiles choked on his own breath, trying to sort out what he wanted to do and how he felt about it. And Peter let him, he didn’t do anything yet Stiles was utterly weak and helpless and Peter let him suffer there, and the boy hesitated.

Stiles hesitated because the thought of Peter dying in his arms made him physically sick. It was alarming on many levels and he felt really confused.

“Stiles.” he heard Peter’s voice and he jumped. The man didn’t try to touch him or speak to him anymore but that one word was enough for Stiles to _know_. His grip slowly eased on the hilt until the dagger slipped from his hands to the bed and fell on the floor with a loud metallic sound. That noise signed to him to be prepared for either a laugh, or something that would hurt him, maybe kill him, but none of that happened.

Instead, Peter pushed himself up on his elbows, then reached out to slip his fingers on the boy’s nape. His fingers were warm and calming and Stiles whimpered at the touch, placing his hands on Peter’s chest. He could feel his heart under his fingers, still beating, it was so reassuring and he felt so relieved that his throat tightened.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” he heard Peter’s voice and Stiles just shook his head.

“I… It… would have been too easy.” he choked out, laughing at himself because it was more than that. There was so much more that it scared him. Peter’s fingers were stroking the back of his neck calmingly and it worked. Stiles closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath before he lost himself entirely in his panic.

Then he felt Peter move as he sat up, with Stiles still on his lap, and put his other arm around him, pulling him to his chest. Peter was hugging him and Stiles wondered if this might be the first time it happened. The boy felt himself melt into those arms, coming undone as those fingers caressed the skin on his neck and sometimes slipping into his hair. It was so warm and calming and maybe the one thing that felt finally _right_. Stiles let out a dry sob and leaned his forehead against the side of Peter’s jaw, feeling the man’s stubble prickle his sweaty skin. He pressed his nose against the base of the man’s neck enjoying his warmth and scent.

_Enjoying_.

He wasn’t tolerating it, or suffering through it, he was enjoying Peter’s presence. Even after what happened and after all those awful things the man had done, Stiles enjoyed his presence and the fact that his heart was still beating was giving him so much happiness it choked him.

“To the gods…” he swallowed to try and get himself together.

Stiles tilted his head to kiss the corner of Peter’s mouth, but the man turned his head to make it into a full kiss. Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut and his hands slipped on the man’s shoulders as he kissed back. It was a slow, proper kiss and Stiles felt like it was overwhelming him, but he wanted more. He moved closer to Peter, pressing up against him, and the man pulled him tight against himself for a moment.

“I—“ he started, but for his surprise Peter tilted his head to kiss him again. And again. Stiles whimpered and arched his back to press against the man’s torso and in that moment Peter pushed him down on the bed. “Peter…!” Stiles gasped when he felt a hand between his legs. He really wanted it, but he was afraid Peter will leave him after they are done. And they needed to talk. “I’ve- I’ve killed before…!” he stuttered, jumping when the man’s fingers locked on a very sweet spot.

“You don’t have to prove you could have done it.” Peter murmured and leaned in to kiss Stiles again, but no matter how much the boy wanted to lose himself in the sensations, he still turned his head.

“No… No it’s not that.” he panted. “I- I killed my mother.” he started, fisting his hands. At that, Peter stopped touching him and Stiles took it as a cue to continue. “I killed my mother. She was really sick and I killed her.” Saying it out loud made him feel a strange numbness in all his body. Maybe it was the first time in his life he ever said those words out loud.

The queen was watching his husband hovering over him, waiting for him to go on. Peter wanted to hear what he was planning to say, which was good.

“She was coughing a lot, and the- the doctors said it was something in her lungs, but…” he started, but he had to close his eyes for a second. “But nothing helped, not even magic. Nothing could get- get that something out of her lungs.” Stiles heard himself speak, but he felt like it wasn’t even him who was doing it. It felt like the part of his soul which had been locked up all these years had finally broken free and wanted to tell his sin to the first person who wouldn’t judge him for it.

Stiles slowly sat up and Peter gave him room, but never left his space. He was close and warm and just so _reassuring_.

“She was dying and choking every night, she couldn’t breathe.” the queen said, remembering his mother’s last days. She got thin and grey and suffered so much she didn’t smile anymore. She was dying, but she wasn’t dead. It was worse than being dead, she had to suffer through every single one of her attacks and hope to live to the end of them, but it was always just the hope of death. “And I couldn’t just watch her suffer anymore.” Stiles said, he licked his lips and raised his gaze to meet the king’s.

“One day… I brought her tea.” he started and the scene already flashed before his eyes. He had sent the guards away, requesting some private time with his sick mother. He was only ten years old, still a child, but he knew what he needed to do. Stiles recalled the eyes of his mother as he walked into her room with the tray and he could see that she _knew_. She knew and she was smiling so beautifully bittersweet, that Stiles’ heart broke. She was always beautiful, but when she realized it might end soon she was happy for a moment. But not entirely. She felt guilty for leaving her husband and son to this world in such a way. “She… Her attack after that was fatal.”

Peter eyed the boy’s pale face; the queen’s eyes were on him too, but he didn’t see him. Stiles watched his mother die, he recalled her death and probably her last words. Peter caught himself recalling that feeling all too easily, but his case was slightly different. Stiles poisoned his mother to help her sufferings, but Peter… he had other reasons to kill his niece.

“I wanted to help her.” Stiles started and his voice shook as he snapped back to reality. Peter thought he was waiting for some kind of absolution from him, but Stiles’ gaze wasn’t begging; it was determined. “I wanted to stop her suffering, I wanted her to…” he continued but his voice died in his throat as it grew too tight to talk.

Peter sighed softly and looked away. He vaguely wondered if what Stiles was feeling was the proper human emotion toward death of a loved one. It was far from what Peter felt.

“Why did you kill your niece?” Stiles asked and Peter’s lips pulled into a smile. He almost had to laugh.

“You told me you killed your mother, just so I would also tell you why I killed one of my own?” he asked with maybe too much arrogance in his voice.

“I was just-“ Stiles started but Peter shut him up with just a cold glare.

“I didn’t kill her out of pity, I killed her because she didn’t fit into the plan.” Peter spoke. “She was the Alpha, she had the power but she wasn’t planning on taking revenge on those who killed us! On those hunters, your father’s hunters had locked us up in our own house and burned it down.” he said in such a voice that Stiles shivered at the coldness of it.

“I took her life and I took her powers and I could finally go and get my revenge. But then I thought… why just on those people?” Peter continued and the spark of insanity was flaring in his eyes again. “If I won’t get my point through properly, they will continue to hunt us, to hurt us and burn us again in the name of the new gods. I wanted to kill the king who let this happen.”

Stiles swallowed and shifted, but Peter grabbed his arm to keep him where he was. If he so wanted to know why he killed Laura, then he will damn well hear the whole story.

“I wanted everyone to know the Hales are untouchable and if I had to kill a few of them for it then let it be.” Peter hissed, squeezing Stiles’ arm. “I don’t regret it, I didn’t do it to help, I did it to get revenge.”

“You’re lying!” Stiles hissed back, yanking his arm. “It wasn’t the revenge! You were just scared out of your mind!” he shouted. “You were so scared that they will hurt you again, you didn’t care for what price, but you would hit back! You’re not brave or heroic, or even evil, you’re just _scared_!”

Stiles’ cried out when claws dug into his skin, but he continued.

“I killed my mother to help her, I wanted to help her, I did it for her!” he shouted, yanking his arm and making Peter’s claw dig deeper, but he needed that pain to keep grounded. “I was scared too, but at least I admit it and you know what, I don’t regret it!”

Peter’s glare grew dangerous and his eyes were red, but Stiles really never knew when to shut up.

“You got so scared, you’re scared of everything and that’s why you want to hurt and burn down everything! You’re a coward! Do you think if you’re powerful enough nothing can hurt you?!” he screamed.

“I did it for my family.” Stiles heard Peter’s growl.

“Your family wanted peace and you killed one of them to make them go your way!” Stiles snapped, shaking his head. “And now, you’re king, you’re powerful but you have no one you can trust anymore and that scares you too.”

“Enough!” the man snapped at him and the next thing Stiles knew was his back hitting the ground as Peter threw him off the bed. He could feel warm blood trail down his arm where he had clawed up his skin, but the pain gave Stiles more strength to get everything off his chest. Because it was _working_. “I was burned alive with the rest of my family!” Peter’s voice came first, then the blow as he pounced Stiles, pushing his shoulders back on the ground.

“You can’t even imagine how it felt, being there, trapped and helpless, and watching them burn and suffocate to death.” Peter continued, smashing Stiles against the ground again with a force that caused the boy to see stars.

“Of course I can’t!” Stiles wheezed out, trying to push Peter off of him. The man’s features grew more animalistic and angry and if Stiles was anyone else he would have stopped screaming with him. But he wasn’t anyone else, he was Stiles Stilinski, the Queen of the Hale Kingdom and the wife of Peter Hale and he will let him have a piece of his mind. “No one should have to imagine that, or live through something like that, it’s not fair! What happened wasn’t fair, but what you did wasn’t fair either! Thousands died because of your personal revenge mission!”

“They deserved it-“

“Can’t you _see_?!” Stiles roared, glaring at Peter. “You’re acting the same as those people who burned you and your family. You’re one of them now!”

Peter fell silent, staring at the boy under him, but the expected revelation didn’t come.

“I’m not one of them, I’m just _like_ them.” he said in a quiet, tense voice. “I was the one burning _their_ houses down and I have no regrets.”

Stiles was out of breath as he was eying Peter, he was getting tired, but he wasn’t about to give up. It was true; Peter was insane, unable to see anything else than his own sick visions and that made it hard. It made everything difficult, but Stiles was too deep into it to let it go. Peter wouldn’t change, but Stiles would break to try and prove him wrong on that.

“When I asked you… that if you want peace, you were lying to me.” he swallowed.

Peter’s silence was what confirmed his answer and Stiles wasn’t surprised.

“I’m asking you again now.”

“For peace?”

“Yes.”

Peter snorted, looking away, and let Stiles go. He sat back on his heels, his features turning back to human, but his eyes were still red as the moon on rare nights.

“Just be brave, just… trust me.” Stiles said determined and this time he was grabbing Peter’s arm to make him listen. “I want peace and a strong country. I want people to be happy and I want a strong king on the throne who could smite his enemies in a second, but if you destroy everything it won’t happen. We need these people to build something. If we can do this together, I’ll help you build the strongest kingdom and make you the most powerful king in history.”

The boy’s words were passionate and his spark wasn’t insane. He had tactics and foresight and that, Peter realized, made him extremely strong. Stiles wasn’t a soldier, he was a tactician. No wonder the people saw a promising king in him before Peter wed him.

“I promise you I won’t let anyone hurt you if you trust me.” Stiles said and Peter froze once again. Those words were so surreal to hear, because he wasn’t afraid. Everyone was afraid _of him_ , why would he need any help, especially from Stiles?!

“You’re so sure in your illusions, princess.” he remarked, but the boy’s expression didn’t waver. He was waiting for his answer. “The only thing I’m afraid of is that I’ll go deaf from your whining.” he remarked and stood to leave.

Stiles let go of a sigh he didn’t know he was holding as he watched Peter pick up his clothes. Despite being in pain, he wasn’t afraid and he felt like he had won this battle, even if Peter hadn’t answered him. The man left without a word, leaving Stiles with a clawed up arm and without an answer. That was something, right? The boy rubbed his forehead and looked around the room, spotting the dagger he had gotten from Derek on the floor. He reached for it and decided to keep it. He might have a good use for it later, he thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't decide if this is my favorite chapter, or the one I hate the most...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo, halfway there baby.
> 
> Betaed by Evy any other mistakes are mine~

Peter was good with people. It was partly him being a werewolf, and partly that he had learned how to build connections. He was a ladies’ man; he was good at most kinds of conversations around the dinner table, but it wasn’t just that. He could actually read humans well, heard their pulse rise, detected the hitch in their breath, saw their pupils widen in fear. He could smell their sickness, their _happiness_ , he could tell too many things about them. That’s how he could tell Stiles’ change of heart too.

The boy’s heart was beating faster whenever he was with him and not from fear. He smelled of lust and faintly of _happiness_ , but the lingering anger and revulsion made it all bittersweet. Peter could tell by just looking at Stiles’ faintly blushing cheeks that the boy had fallen and in any other situation he would have had fun with that. He would have gone and broken the boy, but the thing was, he already broke Stiles once. Peter grew careful with him after that and when he realized that Stiles was in love, he got scared.

Stiles grew stronger with that emotion in his chest and he was like fire; bright and burning hot and Peter was mesmerized, but he was too scared to get closer. He was afraid of burning.

\--

The queen was in the library, without Scott this time because he still needed a lot of rest, researching about werewolves again. Thankfully, the library of the fortress was one of the biggest of the kingdom, because the Stilinskis were pressing on the importance of knowledge, thus Stiles had always been the kid who was reading instead of going to sword practice. Or maybe he just wasn’t fond of his sword technique teacher Professor Finnstock. He was a strange man.

This time, Stiles was sitting on the ladder which led up to the higher shelves, with a huge, old book on his lap which he was trying to read. It was written in an old language which no one spoke anymore, but he still had had to learn it for some reason and he now was glad he knew. It contained important information about all kinds of beasts.

After a while he felt like someone was watching him. The hair on his neck stood up and he shivered. Stiles looked around only to see Derek coming closer with slow, unstable steps, and when the boy could see him properly he winced. Derek was a mess; there were huge, purple and greenish yellow bruises all over his neck and face, and clawmarks on his arm which Stiles could see, even if Derek was wearing a long sleeved tunic in the heat of summer. The queen was sure that his whole body was covered in injuries and bruises. Stiles just realized he hadn’t seen Derek since a few days.

Peter showed his nephew he’s still capable of being in charge. Stiles read that an Alpha werewolf’s attack wouldn’t fade away as fast as another werewolf’s.. that’s what must have happened to Derek too.

Derek looked at him with anger and blame in his eyes, and Stiles was feeling responsible, but he had an explanation and he hoped the wolf would accept it.

Stiles sighed when Derek stopped near him, still staring at him.

“You didn’t do it.” the wolf said simply, and the queen nodded.

“He knew it was you.” Stiles snorted just to continue the stating the obvious game. “Maybe you shouldn’t have left your scent on me.” he added, raising an eyebrow.

“Why did you back out?” the wolf asked, placing his hand on the ladder. “Did you get scared?” he asked. Stiles flushed from anger. He wasn’t afraid, not anymore and no one should think he was a scaredy cat.

“I just don’t think that murdering the current king would bring peace, you know.” he shrugged and closed his book to get off the ladder.

“You and your peace.” Derek huffed. “Even if he’s the way he is? He’s going to get worse.” He spoke as he was watching Stiles climb down the ladder to walk to the nearest table where his books were. “What did he say to you?”

Stiles sighed, rubbing his forehead. He wasn’t exactly happy about that night because it was exhausting, but at least he could get through to Peter. He was happy about it, but now he had to wait until Peter finally comes to him. It might take days, months… even if they didn’t have much time.

“What did he say to you?” Derek asked again when Stiles didn’t answer.

“Nothing.” the boy answered annoyed, glaring at the other. “He didn’t say anything.”

“He must have said _something_ , he has this way, this- this way with words. Lying and manipulating.” Derek said, spreading his arms.

Stiles sighed, because yes he knew Peter thank you very much, he didn’t need to be lectured about him. It was also slightly offending that Derek thought he hadn’t seen Peter’s true nature by now.

“Nothing. I decided not to- not to kill him. Because I don’t think that killing him would solve anything.” he said, glancing at Derek. “Let’s say I kill him, or you kill him. Then what? What happens next?”

“Either your father or I take over the throne.” Derek answered without missing a beat.

“And _then_ what, Derek? Throw the country into chaos again? Making them choose if they’re with the Hales or with my father? And what about the rebels at the border, won’t Peter’s death encourage them?” Stiles asked, motioning over with his hand. “You know, I don’t think the country is ready to lose another king just yet.”

Derek narrowed his eyes as he was eying Stiles, he was searching for something in him. He was trying to see the change in him, but he wasn’t like Peter and he couldn’t _see_. Derek, Stiles thought, was awful with people, he wasn’t as charismatic and he might make a good leader of an army, but he definitely wouldn’t make a good king.

“Let’s just wait a little.” Stiles said.

“Wait for what?” Derek snorted. “For him to go truly insane and destroy everything?”

“I won’t let that happen.” the boy frowned.

The tension was almost visible between them, as they were eying each other. But Stiles’ opinion remained standing.

A servant interrupted them, before the queen thought Derek will jump at his throat. The royal huntsmen had arrived at the fortress and the queen was supposed to welcome them. Stiles wasn’t actually thrilled about the task, but he was done with Derek for the day and it was a good excuse. He was also worried about the hunters’ presence, especially now that he was familiar with the history of the Hales.

Stiles decided to welcome the hunters in the Great Hall with a small feast. They had a long trip behind them after all. A few of them even arrived straight from the battlefield. As the queen was watching them he felt a bit of pride. He could save these people and they could come home alive to their families, doing what they were supposed to do: hunt for food and not kill other men.

“Welcome to Beacon Fortress.” Stiles greeted them with his most queen-like voice and he thought he failed horribly. Sir Chris Argent was the one stepping to him with a tired smile on his lips.

Sir Argent was the leader of the royal huntsmen and the head of the most powerful hunting family in the kingdom. His daughter was Allison, Scott’s sweetheart. Stiles just hoped that they didn’t bring their daughter right now, because Scott wasn’t exactly alright yet.

“I’m sorry to bother you at such… happy times, your Majesty.” Sir Argent said, looking around. Stiles blushed a little, because the honeymoon period in the country was half a year. Sometimes a whole year if the royal couple couldn’t get enough of each other. “We came at the command of your father and we also heard worrisome rumors.”

Stiles swallowed, but put on his most polite smile.

“Let your men rest and eat for today.” he started. “And don’t worry about the rumors. These are times after war, people jump on every little silly tale they hear.”

“If only a tiny little part of this rumor is true, Your Majesty, then there is a good reason I’m worried.” Chris insisted, and Stiles bit the inside of his lip. He felt like it would be suspicious to put it off more, so he nodded.

“Let’s talk about it in private.” he agreed.

“As soon as possible, your Majesty.” the hunter pressed and Stiles groaned.

“Alright, let your men dine and we shall go somewhere private.” he nodded and motioned to the servants to lead him and the huntsman to the queen’s chamber.

Stiles had a feeling that Sir Argent knew about things he had only learned a few days ago himself. It might become an interesting talk, especially since the hunter was so eager about it.

“I’m sorry for being so insistent about this, Your Majesty, but this matter doesn’t seem so simple.” Sir Argent started and sat down on his seat after Stiles took his place. The queen sent away the servants, leaving the illusion of privacy to them. Sir Argent only started talking when they were alone.

“What exactly was the rumor you heard?” Stiles started. Better get the hunter’s version first.

Sir Argent eyed the queen for a while as if he wanted to ask that first. But in the end he spoke.

“They said… a huge wolf got inside the walls of the fortress. Killing five guards and injuring almost half of them.” he started, picking something on the table. “Your father is worried… about how a wild animal like that could get inside the safest place in the kingdom?”

Stiles nodded, signing Sir Argent to continue, and stopped himself from biting his lip to hide his nerves.

“In my opinion, it wasn’t a simple wolf, Your Majesty.” the hunter said, eying the boy.

“What do you mean?” the queen asked, pretending to be clueless. He, after all, shouldn’t know about creatures of the old gods.

“Have you heard about werewolves?” Chris asked, and Stiles almost rolled his eyes. He wished he wouldn’t have heard about those stupid wolves. His life might be easier. But this was his life now, pretending he knows nothing about said monsters.

“The monsters of the old religion, I heard about them, yes.” he nodded, because that was all he was supposed know about them.

“Indeed, they are creatures of something old, something that should already be forgotten.” the hunter said, eying the queen. “So it’s strange that a creature like that would walk around the place where the king established his new capital.” he remarked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles frowned. “What does the beast have to do with the king?”

Sir Argent smiled, tilting his head to the side.

“You really don’t know, your Majesty?” he asked in the kind of  tone which showed he apparently didn’t believe Stiles’ total cluelessness. “The rumors.”

The queen rolled his eyes, sighing.

“I believed you’re a more sensible man than to believe rumors.” he said. “I have heard gossips, yes. I heard it all.” he nodded.

“I have a good feeling to believe that your husband has something to hide. Actually, the whole Hale family has a good reason to keep their family relations a secret.”

“Sir Argent, my patience isn’t endless.” Stiles pressed.

“I’m saying that the Hales are these creatures, these wolves.” the hunter finished, eying Stiles. The queen tried to remain calm, but still unfazed about the news.

“Don’t make me laugh.” he snorted. “That my husband is a werewolf? Do you hear your own words? That’s absurd.” he chuckled. “Don’t you think I would have had a little idea about that by now?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking Your Majesty.” the hunter said, eying the boy. Stiles licked his lips and he knew it was a mistake. He gave himself away, but he could still work with this. He couldn’t have let the hunters know about Peter and the Hales, not yet. He needed to know Peter’s answer to his latest offer and everything was depending on it. And until then, he will protect the Hales, even if they won’t appreciate it at all.

“Well, you’re mistaken.” Stiles said, cocking his chin up. “My husband is truly human and I can confirm that.”

“He can confirm that too?”

The queen was enraged with the question.

“You are suggesting what I think you are?” he asked, rising from his seat. “You would put my husband through a werewolf-trial, to check if he’s really human? You would do that to your king?” he continued. “Do you know the punishment for simply suggesting such a thing?”

The hunter didn’t say anything. He was a good man and an experienced hunter; he also knew when to stay silent.

“That’s what I thought.” Stiles finished. “I regard this matter closed. I don’t want to hear about it anymore, not from you and not from anyone. The beasts of the old gods are extinct, they are gone.”

“I’ve got news there are still a few of them by the border, where our armies are still fighting.” Sir Argent answered. That was new information and Stiles wasn’t prepared for it and that angered him. He licked his lower lip, thinking he should ask Peter or Derek about it.

“Are your sources reliable?” he asked.

“Pretty much.”

“That’s not enough.” Stiles snapped. “As I said, I don’t want to hear about this matter anymore. The rumored beast was a bear seeking a place away from the heat of the summer and it caught us unprepared. That’s why the injured were that many. Thank you for your concern Sir Argent, but I won’t need your services.”

“Your Majesty.” Sir Argent nodded, realizing he won’t get anywhere if he presses more. “I’ll still plan on staying for a few days. My men, you see, are tired and we should still look around in the forests for other bears to prevent another disaster.” he said.

“Fair enough.” Stiles nodded. “Now, join your men and rest. I have my duties to attend to. You’re welcome in the fortress as long as you wish.” and with that he stood and left.

This is why he needed to know if Peter would place his trust in him. That if he will need to hand him over to the hunters or he will have to protect him. Both can get extremely dangerous, and Stiles preferred to be prepared. Also, he was really curious what was really going on at the border.

\--

The hunters staying in the castle meant that Stiles had to be careful. These men were sharp and at least one knew what to look out for. The queen was certain that Sir Argent won’t leave the werewolf subject alone, which wasn’t good news, taking the current circumstances. Stiles felt a bit helpless, he needed to know if Peter will trust him or not. He protected him once, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to give Peter a second chance.

If the hunters catch the Hale family and they prove they are werewolves they will take away their royal rights; the contract between the old king and Peter Hale will be invalid and the Hales will face execution. It would throw the country into many more long years of war as people will try to grab the power and Stiles wasn’t sure if his father will be strong enough for it. Stiles first needed to think of a method to handle this as smoothly as he could; and he needed to know where Peter stands in it all.

Then one day, he received an invitation to one of the tactical meetings. Stiles decided to use this opportunity for the best.

“So, we’re finally doing this, huh!” he grinned as he entered the chamber. Scott was at his heels, finally working again, but he wasn’t all that happy these days. Indeed, he looked so extremely tired sometimes that Stiles wondered if he should send him back to his room, but then again he didn’t really want to leave Scott alone. He was still ‘sick’ and apparently it really was like a sickness and Stiles hated to see Scott in such a state.

“Doing what?” Stiles heard Derek snort. The wolf was exceptionally grumpy around him since the failed assassination attack, which was terribly annoying. Sorry for not backstabbing, really.

“Planning the tactic, of course.” Stiles snorted and walked to the table to finally have a glance at what the Hales were planning. On his way he bumped his shoulder into Derek, just to show him who’s the queen. Naturally, the man didn’t leave it just like that and pushed back, almost throwing Stiles out of balance. “Hey..!” the boy snapped.

“Alright _children_ , can we skip the cockfight and talk about why I asked the queen to attend this meeting?” Peter spoke then, slamming his hands down on the table, glaring around.

Derek turned toward him with such anger that Stiles though he will say no and drag him into it. But in the end he kept his mouth shut. Apparently, the latest punishment he’d gotten from his Alpha was enough to keep him at bay. Stiles realized he was looking at the Hales in a different kind of light since he knew their secret and a lot of things started to make sense.

“Why did you call me, then?” Stiles asked, crossing his arms. Peter eyed him for a few seconds then straightened his back.

“The hunters.” he started. The moment he spoke that word Derek and Cora tensed up too and Stiles shivered from the tension that engulfed the room. He looked around a bit unsure then brought his gaze back to Peter.

“Oh, yes, thank you for letting me handle them alone, that was really nice of you, my king.” he snorted. “What about them?” he asked then a bit alarmed.

“I want them out.” Peter said casually. “They have this horrible habit of… stinking.” he scrunched his nose.

Stiles couldn’t believe his ears. They didn’t call him to talk about tactics or that strange incident at the border, but about the hunters.

“Well, then tell them that.” he started throwing his hands up angrily. “They will certainly apologize and go.”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head.

“I don’t think you understand. I want you to get rid of them, or I will.” he said, pinning Stiles with his gaze and the boy realized what he meant by that.

“What- Wh… What is your problem!?” the boy started, gasping. “They’re good men, they fought in the war and now they are just doing their job!”

“They are the first people who’d got converted to the new religion and started admiring the new gods. These people aren’t really accepting of the old creatures and old gods.” Derek started.

“They are the same kind of people who killed our family.” Cora continued. Stiles licked his lips as he eyed the Hales. He was familiar with their past, he was too familiar with it even, and now that past was here again, haunting them. “I heard you talk to Argent when they arrived, you were protecting us.”

Stiles sighed, rubbing his cheeks as he listened to Cora.

“How did you—“ he started, but the girl just smirked tapping her ears and Stiles decided to leave it at that. Stupid werewolf hearing.

“I just bought time for all of us, to know…” Stiles started, looking at Peter. “To know what to do.” he said at last, waiting for the king’s answer. “If I refuse…”

“I’ll kill them one by one.” Peter shrugged, not missing a beat.

“That certainly will ease everyone’s suspicion.” Stiles snorted.

“It’s exactly the reason why I want you to handle this matter.” the king nodded. “It’s the boring way, I admit, but right now I need my attention somewhere else.” he said.

“Like the border?” the queen asked back, glancing at the maps.

“If you so want to know, then yes.” Peter sighed. “But you have nothing to do with that. I need you to get rid of the hunters.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?!” Stiles spread his arms. “My father sent them, they are professional huntsmen, they know about werewolves and they are suspicious of you all!” he pointed around.

“If they need a werewolf then we can give one to them easily.” Peter shrugged. “Scott here is up for the heroic task.”

“What?” Stiles asked at the same time as Scott. The queen looked at his guard, then back at Peter.

“I’m not-“ Scott started but Peter continued talking.

“You might not be able to turn, but if _someone_ would point at you they would still put you through the trial.” he said, pinning Scott with his gaze. “Your body’s still infected, you wouldn’t pass that trial. It will be a good excuse to send them away. Won’t you do that for your king?”

Scott glared at Peter and Stiles saw his eyes flash yellow. He hoped it was not a sign that Scott’s healing might take more than the months Deaton was talking about.

“Scott, hey, brother, calm down. No one’s going to send you out as bait.” the queen started, holding out his arm to protect Scott like that. “I’ll talk to the hunters, I’ll send them away so you don’t have to tremble from fear up in this room, you dogs.”

He was angry and that was why he was snappier with his retort. Also, he wondered if the constant fear of death around Peter wasn’t getting to him. But he still jumped a little when three people growled at once at him.

“This is your duty now, my queen.” Peter snarled, eyes flashing red. As if that would intimidate Stiles. The boy tried to pretend it didn’t but yes, it was just pretense. He swallowed, fisting his hands. He realized this is a test Peter put him to. He will have to prove that he can protect them from a danger like this, that they can protect their secret. Peter still didn’t trust him, but he was giving Stiles a chance to prove his loyalty.

“Fine.” Stiles said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll send them away before anyone has to die.”

“And do it quick.” Peter nodded with that mocking smile. “Off you go.”

“What, you’re still not going to talk to me about the border?!” Stiles gasped.

“Prove it you earned the right.” the man hissed, out of patience.

“Get out.” Derek grumbled at them and Stiles groaned at the utter stupidity of the Hales once again. He stormed out and he hated how it was always the way he has to leave that room, always being sent out like that. It was getting on his nerves especially now he knew that important things were being discussed in that room and he wasn’t a part of it.

Stupid Peter. Stupid Derek. Stupid Hales.

“Stiles.” Scott started as he was fuming. “It’s fine, you don’t have to-“

“No, it’s not fine, Scott!” the queen turned around. “I’m going to do this and no one will get hurt.” he stomped, flailing his arms. He was sick of Peter’s threats, that he was always using someone else to control him. Stiles wanted to show Peter he doesn’t have to do that anymore; that there are other ways to get things done.

“You should let the hunters take care of them.” Scott said.

“And what if they got you?” the queen asked back. “No, Scott, right now I must get rid of the hunters. I need to calm their suspicion somehow.”

“You’re way too obsessed with Peter lately.” his guard remarked quietly and it made Stiles stop to stare at him.

“What?” he frowned. Scott sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s… nothing.” he sighed at last. “I just… I was just talking to Derek about it, and he told me about the… thing.” He muttered. Stiles had to think for a second what the ‘thing’ was but when he realized it he went pale. He grabbed Scott and pulled him to the nearest room.

“He told you?!”

“He did!”

“Wha- when how?! Why?!” Stiles gaped shaking the boy.

“He’s helping me train, you know. And we talk. Sometimes. Though he’s not that talkative.” Scott started. “But he told me about when… he gave you a dagger, right? And you didn’t use it.” As the guard was talking, Stiles didn’t know if he wanted to choke Derek first or Scott. None of them could understand?!

“I decided not to kill him!” he hissed. “It wouldn’t be good for the country.”

“If he were dead Derek would take over and he said he would put the old king back on the throne!” Scott insisted. “It would have been a simple solution, Stiles, and you didn’t do it. Why?! What was he doing to you, did he say something?”

“Why is everyone thinking that Peter told me anything?” Stiles spread his arm angrily. “It’s not Peter, it’s the country and-“

“You’ve changed and he’s the one who did it.” Scott said. “When you got married you wanted to kill him, you were afraid of him, and now you… you’re going to protect him from the hunters. Stiles, he doesn’t have the right to be on the throne, he is a creature of the old religion--!”

“You’re a creature of the old religion right now too, does that mean I should throw you into prison for treason?!” Stiles shouted which made Scott silent. “I thought so.” the queen sighed, stepping back. It was actually a blow that Scott didn’t seem to trust him, but it didn’t mean he should change his ways. Right now his highest priority was Peter and no one else. “I’m sorry.” he swallowed, then turned to leave. He didn’t care if Scott was following him or not. He was too busy imagining how Derek and Scott were talking about Peter and him behind their backs and plan on assassinations and treason. It was alarming.

Suddenly, Stiles felt a whole lot more alone than before.

To try and occupy his mind with something, he was thinking about a plan to give the hunters their ‘bear’ and he actually had an idea. He just had to send a few letters.

\--

A few days had passed since the hunters had arrived at the fortress. Stiles sometimes visited them as a good queen should. They kept asking about Peter who refused to see them, raising their suspicion more each day and making Stiles’ days pretty difficult. Even he barely saw Peter while the hunters were in the fortress. Or any of the Hales for that matter and apparently an order was given to Scott too as he was excusing himself a lot when Stiles was dining with Sir Argent. Way to go, leaving him alone like that. Though Stiles didn’t blame him, for Scott he was one of the enemy right now, but the queen knew that it will all be well in the end.

Then, one of those dark nights a roar cut through the silence.

“It’s here again!” people shouted as a huge monster rumbled through the yards. It gave a horrendous roar, trashing everything that came into his way and reminding the people of a beast from not long ago. Guards could barely restrain it and it didn’t react to the arrows shot at it.

Stiles licked his lips as he was watching the beast rampage the ground just like on that other night. It was the same monster.

Only, not really. Stiles knew the beast who had bitten Scott and killed the guards was Peter, a werewolf. The beast down there on the grounds was a huge grizzly bear. Exactly like the one from the rumors. Scott was standing next to him by the window, watching as the guard captain tried to handle the situation with little luck. The bear was huge and strong and wild from the injuries and the smell of blood threw it into a desperate state.

“They say it came through the ice cellar underground.” Scott muttered in disbelief. Then turned to Stiles. “You don’t seem surprised…”

“It’s because I’m more worried that if a bear could find its way inside the fortress _twice_ , then what about the enemy?” Stiles answered a bit cold, his gaze glued to Sir Argent finally pulling a spear to take the injured monster head on. He did the same as Scott, using a spear to stab the beast, but he aimed for the neck of the bear. The animal didn’t waver. It reached with its huge claws toward the man, when a sudden attack from behind stopped it. A sword cut through its strong chest like it was butter, stopping his heart once and for all.

It was Peter’s sword. Stiles’ lips tightened as he was watching the scene where the hunter realized his new king was standing by the corpse of a bear, wiping his sword on its fur. He greeted him with cold politeness and Stiles knew he wasn’t fooled, but his men were and that was enough. He had his ‘bear’ and there was no excuse to search for werewolves anymore.

They got the ‘beast’, they killed it and now they could go back to the old castle. Stiles sighed, watching Peter slip his sword back into its scabbard. He hated how his heart skipped a beat just because he could finally see him again. The king looked around, then slowly raised his head to watch Stiles. His confident smirk was intact and the boy knew he will get a visitor soon.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Evy~

Peter didn’t invite Stiles to a meeting this time, but visited him one late night when Scott had already switched with the night guard. The king wanted to talk to his wife in private. After all, the boy really did everything to prove his ridiculous oath to him and it was fun putting Stiles to the test. But if he wanted to play this game more, he had to throw some meat at the boy.

“I’m impressed.” Peter started as he walked in Stiles’ room and slowly closed the door. “You could actually make the hunters leave and with such an outstanding plan.”

“It was outstanding, alright. But it cost more guards than I thought.” Stiles said, getting out of his bed. He was about to sleep, not having expecting Peter that night.

“Where did you get the bear?” Peter asked, frowning slightly in amusement.

“I have my connections.” the boy shrugged, eying the king. “Did I pass the test? Can I play with the big boys now? Will you trust me?” he asked, stepping closer.

Peter snorted, shaking his head.

“You proved you can do anything to reach your goal.” he started, placing his hands behind his back. “You proved you would do anything to gain my trust. Why?”

“I told you.” Stiles huffed.

“For peace.” Peter rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Of course.”

“You still don’t trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“Why?!” the queen asked loudly, stomping. “I protected you and your family from the hunters, twice! Was that not enough?”

Peter’s expression darkened and he walked up to the boy. He was so persistent and so noisy and just so thickheaded. He wasn’t fun anymore, but trouble.

“Stiles.” He started. “I will never trust you.”

“Why?!” the boy frowned.

“Because you’re the son of the king who ordered to kill my family, because on our first night you didn’t hesitate to run a knife through my throat, because you are not respecting me, you’re afraid of me and you _think_ you see me, but you don’t.” Peter said growling.

Stiles swallowed because most of those things were true, not all however.

“I can see you.” he answered, shaking his head. Peter was afraid of that answer. He didn’t want Stiles all clever and aware; he proved he was smart and his attention was all on Peter and the man didn’t like that. He didn’t like the way Stiles was looking at him for a lot of reasons and he hated to admit it, but one of the feelings that cut into him when Stiles’ eyes found his way to him was fear.

“You are a child, Stiles.”

“And you’re a coward!” the boy retorted shouting.

“I can’t afford to trust you- You can’t protect me, that’s the stupidest thing anyone ever told me!” the man hollered back. “I don’t need it, Stiles, look at me, I’m king, I’m absolute, I don’t need protection!”

Stiles didn’t answer him, just glared at him and Peter knew he wasn’t buying his bullshit anymore. The boy really saw something and Peter got scared. He was so tempted to tear the boy’s throat out right then and there.

“If you’re so eager to help me, I put you to one last test.” he continued, fisting his hands by his sides. “If you think you’re so smart then tell the voices in my head to stop it.”

“What…?” Stiles blinked and Peter could finally see the fear in his eyes. How do you fight against insanity, after all. The man knew he had won.

“I’m insane, Stiles. I’m aware most of the time.” he continued and walked toward the boy. Stiles took a hesitant step back, but Peter didn’t stop, only when Stiles’ back hit the wall. “I see things that aren’t there, I hear voices and screams and sometimes I think I’m sleeping but I’m not.” the wolf continued.

“Peter…” Stiles started, licking his lips and clearly at a loss of what to do. The expression was like oil to Peter’s fiery rage, so he went on.

“They scream and shout and they don’t give me a second of peace. They are always here, judging me, cheering me on, telling me secrets. The old gods, the new gods, my family, my niece…” Peter continued louder and louder. “How do you want to fight against things that aren’t real for you, huh, Stiles? _How do you stop the voices_?!”

Stiles didn’t answer, just closed his eyes for a second in distress. Peter could hear the hitch in his breath and how his heartbeat picked up from the rising panic.

“Answer me, my queen!” Peter roared at last. “Answer me, how do you stop the voices?!” he shouted and the next moment it was silence.

Peter was so shocked suddenly that he couldn’t move. It completely caught him off guard. The silence. It knocked the air out of his lungs so he had to catch his breath. His hands slowly moved to his ears just to find Stiles’ palms against them.

Stiles was covering his ears with his hands. Peter frowned and pressed his own hands against the boy’s, finally raising his eyes to meet the queen’s. He stopped the voices. He asked him to stop the voices and he did just that.

“Is it working?” he heard Stiles’ scared whisper. The boy’s fingers were shivering softly under his hands. Peter realized he’d lost against him. He lost. He just slowly nodded, taking a deep breath.

\--

He wasn’t woken up by a scream. Instead, the first sound he heard was a steady beating of a heart. Someone very alive was laying under him. Peter sighed softly and slowly opened his eyes. He was in Stiles’ bed, his cheek rested on the boy’s chest. The queen’s arms were cradling his head, one hand covering his ear, still. Peter sighed again when he remembered last night. Stiles swore loyalty to him and he proved he can and will do anything in his power to stand up to Peter and support him.

Stiles could make the voices silent and even Peter didn’t expect that. It was terrifying. To think that someone had such a control over him. Someone who was smart and determined and _just like him_. Stiles told him once that he didn’t want to be like him and Peter knew how much strength that took. The boy was still pure in some aspects, he could still trust, he could still gather the courage for that and that was one of the few things that made them different. Peter never thought this will happen, he had never seen Stiles as strong as now.

Peter heard the change in Stiles’ heartbeat and he knew he was surfacing from his dream slowly too. His hand slipped from his ear down Peter’s cheek and he needed a second to realize who is with him in bed. The man slowly smiled as he listened to that young heart pick up its pace in recognition and turned his head to meet Stiles’ sleepy gaze. Again, some awful urges hit Peter; like leaning over and kiss him good morning. But before he realized how he’s not doing that any longer, he was already brushing his lips against his wife’s.

“Good morning.” Stiles’ hoarse, morning voice was something Peter didn’t expect to make him feel this warm. All this cuddling, and good morning kisses and touches were making him nervous and annoyed and yet, he was still staying. He had a meeting early in the morning, probably in half an hour, but he wasn’t intent on getting out of this bed. Even when it got uncomfortably warm. Then Peter picked up the scent of lust. Oh. Well, at least he could work with that.

The king shifted, slipping one of his thighs between the queen’s legs, pressing against his pretty obvious hardness. It made Stiles shiver in the most delicious way. He wanted it. Peter frowned a little, cocking his head to the side as he was looking down at Stiles.

“Do you need the drug?” he asked.

“I don’t need it.” the boy answered, licked his lips and pushed himself up on his elbows to meet Peter’s mouth once again. His kiss was demanding and almost challenging.

“You’re not going to cry, right?” Peter chuckled against his lips, teasing, and grinned when Stiles punched his shoulder.

“You were rough then!” he complained, but anything else he was about to say was silenced by Peter’s next kiss. “I… want this now.” he managed to mutter between hungry kisses. Before Peter could answer Stiles pushed at him and turned them around, straddling his hips. The man tensed a little, ready to draw a dagger by instinct but when Stiles pulled off his night tunic revealing his naked, flushed skin Peter got tense in a different way. He couldn’t help giving a shaky sigh as he was looking up at Stiles. His skin was light, bearing hundreds of small moles and Peter had the urge to kiss them one by one and when he was done he would do it again. And again. And maybe he would gnaw on that shoulder too and suck on that neck… As Peter was thinking about all the things he wanted to do to Stiles’ body he had to realize he is the first person who made him react to the flesh this way since the fire.

Peter was sure he will never touch anyone again, and he didn’t have the urge for it either. But right now, he just wanted to take Stiles and touch him, and caress his cheeks and taste his skin and wanted his smell all over his body. He was snapped out of his thoughts by Stiles’ kisses all over his jaw, and when he was slowly licking a trace down his neck,Peter let out a growl.

“Not the neck…?” Stiles asked quietly, licking his lips, and Peter shook his head and quickly got rid of his own top.

“Not the neck.” he said and reached out to cup the back of the boy’s head as he decided to suck the skin on his collarbone. Oh that mouth was something really sweet and Peter got tempted. “But you can do something else.” he groaned as he arched his back a little, pressing his hips up against Stiles’. The recognition on the boy’s face was adorable and the blush creeping on his cheeks was absolutely appetizing. He was still such a _virgin_ , but his act was of a lustful teenager, what he was supposed to be. He quickly untied Peter’s trousers, tugging them lower and the man could see the hesitation.

“I’ll guide you through.” he started and sat up, slipping his hand back on the back of Stiles’ head.

“I—“ Stiles started, but then licked his lips and Peter decided he wanted his lips on him and _right now_.

“Remember how I did it the other day?”

“I- I actually do.” the boy answered, closing his eyes for a second. Peter didn’t give much instruction after that but gently pushed at Stiles’ head to urge him on. The boy shifted and leaned down, finding his place between Peter’s legs and still licking his own lips, driving the man crazy.

Then Stiles tilted his head and pressed a kiss on the top of the hard flesh before he slowly reached for it. His fingers were long and warm and trembling and Peter let out a sigh. Stiles started with small licks, just getting used to his taste, his shape and his length first, Peter knew, but it still drove him insane. His breath picked up and he felt sweat break on his forehead. The first sound that left his throat was when Stiles pressed his tongue flat against his heated member and licked it hard.

“Enough.” Peter gasped, tightening his grip on Stiles’ hair. “Of that.” he panted, trying to regulate his breathing but when the queen slipped him inside his mouth without a warning it was all futile. Stiles was a _natural_. And then he started sucking and Peter growled from deep inside his throat in pleasure. Stiles lapped at the underside of his sensitive spot and bobbed his head and sucked in the most sinful way and Peter was suspicious that he learned it from somewhere. But it was impossible, because he would be able to tell, he would smell that other traitor who dared to teach the queen’s mouth such naughty acts. The bare thought that Stiles was with someone else made him growl and not from pleasure.

“Peter?” he heard the boy’s unsure voice and he realized that his claws were out. He forced them to withdraw and cupped the boy’s cheek to draw him back to him for a kiss. “Don’t you want me to finish?” Stiles asked between kisses as he straddled his lap again.

“I want to finish inside you.” Peter panted, slipping a hand down and squeezing Stiles’ back. His erection bumped against the cheeks of the boy and his body demanded to be buried inside him as soon as possible. So Peter reached toward the nightstand just to have Stiles beat him to it. He retrieved the little jar with the lubrication. It was Deaton who made it for Peter’s request especially for the wedding night. The man had no idea he will use it more than once.

“It’s going to be empty soon.” Stiles commented as he unplugged it and looked inside.

“Not a problem.” Peter said and took it from the boy. “I’ll get you as much as you need.” he added, looking up at the boy. Stiles swallowed, but cocked his chin up in a challenge.

“You better.” he said and watched as Peter dipped two of his fingers inside the container, slowly warming the material between his fingers. Then he reached down to start preparing the boy.

Stiles let out a trembling sigh and put his hands on Peter’s shoulders, leaning a bit forward as the man was widening him. Peter tilted his head to kiss against his temple, then down his face just to nuzzle into his ear. The boy was so willing and so young in his arms and the sounds he made were going straight into Peter’s cock. Stiles was getting more and more impatient even if he was still wincing at Peter’s second finger.

“Hurry…” he choked out, leaning his forehead down on the man’s shoulder. His body was trembling faintly. Peter let out a small chuckle and decided to give the boy what he wanted. He got the leftover lube from the jar and reached around Stiles to coat himself.

“Then… have what you so want, _princess_.” he smiled and chuckled at the glare Stiles gave him.

The boy licked his abused lips once again as he looked down and Peter’s gaze lingered on his face. He was still so young, but not anymore. He was broken once and mended together and he was already an adult, but his face in the scarce morning light was still a face of a seventeen year old boy. But when those golden brown eyes met Peter’s ice blue gaze, it wasn’t the look of a boy. It was the look of a queen.

Stiles cursed as he lowered himself on Peter, feeling the burn and the stretching, but the lubrication was doing its work. Peter put his hands on Stiles’ thighs, impatiently squeezing the flesh there a little . He purposely didn’t touch the boy where he wanted it just yet.

“Shit…” Stiles cursed as he was slowly working his hips, taking more of Peter inside his body. His skin was flushed and slippery from sweat and Peter had never seen him more beautiful. Then, Stiles sat down on his cock, taking it inside him to the hilt. His body was sitting tight around Peter, shivering from pleasure and pain. His hands dropped to cover Peter’s on his thighs and the man squeezed his fingers reassuringly. Maybe for the first time, he smiled softly at the boy.

“You look beautiful.” he told him in the faintest whisper and he could hear the hitch in Stiles’ breath. He was looking at him with a dazed expression, with parted lips and slightly confused. Peter immediately regretted saying that out loud, because Stiles _answered_ him. Though not with words, but Peter knew what he said. He could feel it from the beating of his heart, from the hitch in his breath and how his fingers were holding his hands tighter. “Move.” Peter said to snap Stiles out of it and it worked.

“Shut it.” the queen gasped and lifted a little from Peter’s cock to slam back down.

“Slowly.” Peter grunted and placed his hand on Stiles’ ass to control his movements. The tip of his fingers were brushing over where they were connected, giving him a satisfied feeling. Stiles wasn’t anyone else’s but his. He made Stiles slip almost all the way off before going back down with agonizingly slow movements. “Yes, that’s it.” Peter praised him whispering and kissed into his neck. Stiles whimpered and put his arms around his neck, holding onto him as he was riding him with the pace Peter set.

Stiles was panting against his ear, shivering and twitching on his lap, sometimes even calling his name, but pressing his lips against his cheek to stifle it. He was getting close and he wanted more and he grew even louder when Peter changed the angle of his hips and this time he thrust up.

“Oh, to the gods..!” Stiles gasped out, clinging to Peter.

“Do you want it?” the man asked, and reached out to cup Stiles’ cheek, making him look at him.

“Yes, yes I do.” the boy begged, turning his head to kiss into Peter’s palm. “I do- I uh- ah..!” he couldn’t say anything more as his husband’s fingers slipped around his erection and started pumping. Stiles was so loud that Peter was sure the guards outside could hear everything and he didn’t mind, he was even happy about it. More people should know that Stiles is his and his alone.

Peter couldn’t just hear Stiles, he could feel him. Every little shiver and jump, and the way he tightened around him seconds before his release, and that was what threw Peter over the edge too. He gasped out, pumping Stiles while he was rolling his hips in an erratic pace to claim Stiles as his and lose himself in such pleasure he didn’t know he would even experience. For a few seconds, Peter drowned in the sensations of Stiles’ body, his scent, his voice; the way he was still having his arms around him and clinging to him when both of them were spent. With a small wince Stiles moved to slip off Peter’s cock, and settled on his lap.

“See… I don’t need the drug.” Stiles wheezed, then turned to nuzzle at Peter’s cheek. A movement the man wouldn’t have tolerated before, but now he didn’t mind. Indeed, he turned to kiss Stiles again. It wasn’t a hungry or a demanding kiss, it was small and intimate and it made Peter feel things, which scared him. He wanted to break it but Stiles followed him and kissed him again, and again.

“Stiles…” Peter said his name when the boy slipped his hands into his hair. It felt nice. It reminded him of times when he had a home, when he hadn’t been burned alive.

“You don’t like it?” the boy asked quietly, his lips brushing against Peter’s as he was talking.

“I hate it.” Peter lied annoyed. He was fine with sex, but not with intimacy. Especially not with this boy.

“Good.” Stiles snorted and ruffled Peter’s hair a little with a low chuckle. It was all getting too overwhelming, too intimate again and Stiles’ small laughter didn’t help it. Peter didn’t need this, he didn’t want this, he wasn’t cut for intimacy and love anymore. Yet, he still felt something move deep inside him, which made him feel vulnerable and weak.

“I told you I hate it!” he snapped weaker than he intended and reached for Stiles’ arms to pry them off. But then he froze. Noises from outside the queen’s door reached his ears. It was Scott and Derek outside and apparently Scott wasn’t a fan of knocking.

The door opened the next second as Scott marched in to wake the queen up. But yes, Stiles was already wide awake and not alone.

“St- uuuh…” Scott started but as he finally realized what his eyes were looking at he paled. Peter involuntarily slid his arms over Stiles in some kind of way to show that he was his, and enjoyed Scott’s expression pretty much. It was amusing.

“W-would you mind?!” Stiles shouted at the same time as Derek grabbed Scott’s wrist and dragged him out of the room. Peter chuckled, turning his head back to Stiles, watching him blush madly from embarrassment.

“You should really teach him to knock.” he commented, reaching out to brush the back of his fingers against red cheeks. Stiles shook his head.

“It’s not that we really needed him to knock before.” he swallowed, looking at Peter. “Why was Derek here too? Am I keeping you from somewhere?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and the king knew what he wanted to hear. They indeed had a meeting that morning before breakfast about their next battle at the borders and Stiles wanted to be there. He was working hard for that right and Peter decided to give him a chance this time.

“I’ll tell them to postpone it after breakfast and you can come too.” he said and he heard Stiles’ heart race again.

“What? Are you serious right now?”

“No, I’m joking.” Peter deadpanned, rolling his eyes. For a second he was afraid he had made a huge mistake inviting Stiles to the meeting.

“And why not right now?!” Stiles asked. “We shouldn’t make them wait- ow!” he started but gasped out of pain when Peter decided to slip his fingers between his legs and tease his entrance. The man could feel his own seed leaking out of the boy and he had to shiver from the sensation. It wasn’t just him anymore who wanted the boy, but his wolf too. Which was a completely different thing to handle.

“Rest and eat first, I need you at your best and not in pain for that meeting.” Peter commented and pushed against Stiles to nudge him off of his lap.

“And who’s fault is it, that I’m in pain, huh?” Stiles rolled his eyes as he crawled off Peter, shivering a little at the pain and loss of warmth.

“Oh, don’t start whining now.” the king sighed and moved from the bed to get dressed.

“You’re not going to eat with me?” Stiles asked.

“No.” Peter answered simply and threw on his clothes, before he attempted to leave.

Stiles didn’t push the matter more and Peter was glad for it. He left without a word, walking out the door. Derek looked at him kind of disgusted as he passed him and hurried after him.

“What’s wrong, my nephew, jealous that I can get some?” Peter started their morning chat as he set the hem of his shirt. Derek didn’t answer and the man raised an eyebrow at him. “Or you’re just angry you lost the queen from your board?” he commented amused and Derek just looked away.

“You’re late for the meeting.”

“I’m not, it didn’t even start yet.” Peter smirked. “We’ll be waiting for the queen to attend.”

“You invited him!?” Derek frowned more, catching up to Peter. “He’s no one to trust.”

“Maybe not for you.” Peter pinned Derek with his glare. “But I decided to give him a chance.”

“What are you playing at?” the other asked in disbelief and Peter’s shoulders tensed. He trusted no one and no one trusted him, not even in his family.

“Let it be my business.” he said at last.

Meanwhile Stiles wanted the ground to open up and swallow him because the whole thing was so embarrassing. Scott was his best friend, yes, but he had never expected him to see him in such a situation and especially not with Peter. Though Scott’s expression when he was back in the room wasn’t one of embarrassment, it was more one of worry. “Scott?” Stiles frowned at him, gathering the sheets to cover himself up. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

The boy just stared at him for a while with a scrunched nose. It was probably because of all the smells he could detect with his temporary werewolf nose and Stiles felt even more embarrassed. But he wasn’t sure if that was Scott’s real problem.

“Scott?” he asked again.

“Did he hurt you?” Scott started, walking closer.

“What- what no. No he didn’t.” the queen frowned. “Actually, he was quite, uh, nice. If you know what I-“

“I know!” Scott shook his head as if it was an answer he knew he would get, but then again didn’t want to hear. “What are you doing, Stiles?!”

“What do you mean, I’m waiting for breakfast.” Stiles shrugged, pretending he didn’t know what Scott’s problem was. Apparently his friend didn’t take his evasion well. “I’m…” Stiles started, but then bit his lips. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, and the part he was sure of he didn’t want to share with Scott. Not yet.

“I got invited to the Hales’ meeting.” he started with the good news. “Finally I’ll be able to look behind the scenes. I can help establish peace, Scott.”

“There’s already peace, Stiles.” Scott started.

“Not in the whole country.” the queen frowned. “If Peter can’t win that fight there, there won’t be peace. People won’t accept him as their new king. They will forever be in doubt if he was the right one and the rebels at the border will make sure of that.”

“He is a rebel too!” the guard stomped.

“He _was_ a rebel.” Stiles snapped back, glaring at Scott. “He is the king now and his words are absolute. If anyone goes against him, they are committing treason.”

Scott didn’t answer, but Stiles was sure he wasn’t agreeing with him. Still.

“Scott…” he started and stood up from the bed, wrapping his covers around himself. “I’m doing this for you, for all of you. I want the country to be peaceful again and flourish after years of war.”

“And you need to…” Scott started motioning over the bed for that. “You need to do that for it?”

“No... no, that’s…” Stiles sighed, rubbing his cheek a bit embarrassed.

“Stiles, I don’t know what he did or said to you.” Scott said. “But you’re not thinking straight anymore. Peter is not going to bring peace.”

“That’s what Derek told you?” the queen asked annoyed, because he hated to be told off like this. Especially by his best friend, even if he knew that Scott was probably just worried.

“His own family doesn’t trust him, Stiles, how can _you_?” the guard continued. “He isn’t like your father, he is a warrior and he’s _mad_. He shouldn’t be on the throne any longer and you are one of the people who can do something about it.”

“What can I do Scott, huh? Maybe stab him in the back? Is that what the country wants?”

“It’s still better than sleeping with him!” Scott snapped. It caught Stiles off guard so much he was speechless. He saw blame in Scott’s eyes next to worry. His friend didn’t expect this kind of choices from him and he couldn’t understand him. Of course, Scott could have had his personal issues with Peter too, but Stiles knew he wasn’t like that. Maybe the country really wasn’t as accepting of Peter as Stiles first thought? It was an alarming thought and it stabbed into his chest like a knife.

“He can still be stopped and Derek will hand the country back to your father.” Scott continued, seemingly realizing that Stiles was unsure. “No one will blame you…”

“Blame me for what, that I just wanted the fight to end?!” Stiles snapped but it was weak. He swallowed to try and wet his dry throat but it didn’t help. He felt faint and unsure. Just when he finally gained Peter’s trust it happens that maybe it isn’t the side he should have taken. Maybe he was just blinded by his own foolishness and inexperience. Maybe he should listen to Scott and Derek…

“Leave.” Stiles said at last, sitting down on his bed. “I’ll take another guard for the day.” he added and didn’t look at Scott. He didn’t want to see his expression, he didn’t need it.

Scott was trying to oppose, he was trying to stay and talk to Stiles about his issues, but the queen had enough. He had other things to worry about, he had to prove to Peter that he can be trusted and well used in the war meetings. So after breakfast, Stiles didn’t hesitate to make his way toward Peter’s chambers.

He knocked before entering and as he spotted Cora, Derek and Peter by the huge table he immediately felt the tension. Stiles felt a bit better knowing that Peter must have gotten the same kind of speech like he had received from Scott. He took a deep breath to calm down and tried not to be distracted as he walked in. Derek turned his head toward him, eying him like he was some kind of traitor.

“Well good day to you too.” Stiles snorted at the man, crossing his arms. He walked past him to stand between him and Peter.

“How was breakfast?” Peter asked absently.

“Awful.” Stiles answered without looking at him and he could judge by the small snort that the king wasn’t in a good mood either.

“Well, now that everyone’s here.” Peter started, eying the maps. “I’ll review the situation.”

“Peter.” Derek started in the last attempt to stop his uncle from sharing information.

“Derek.” Peter snapped and Stiles couldn’t help but jump a bit at the strange volume of his voice. “Are you going against my orders? Again?” the king asked.

“No.” the man huffed, sharing a look with Cora. Peter was waiting for a few seconds then continued. He was mostly talking to Stiles because he was the only one who didn’t know anything about the situation.

“These are not regular people.” Peter started.

“They are werewolves too, aren’t they?” Stiles asked, glancing up. The king raised an eyebrow at him and pulled a smirk. Stiles liked to believe that he was impressed. So Sir Argent’s sources were indeed reliable.

“Yes.” the king nodded and attempted to continue. “Their leader is called Deucalion, they are smart, strong and fast. They are loyal to the old king, but that’s just for show. They know that if we, the Hales, stay on the throne we’ll be the most powerful werewolf pack.” he said. “Their resistance caught most of the rebel’s attention and they could form a small army to go against the royal army. We cut their supplies, they are surrounded, but they are not afraid to use other methods for the sake of victory.”

“What- what other methods?” Stiles frowned.

“Magic.” Derek answered annoyed. “They have two very powerful emissaries with all the knowledge of the old gods’ power.”

“Magic…?” Stiles whispered. It was his grandparents who established the new religion, who decided to follow the new gods and thus causing the old religion, the old gods and all their creations to disappear. Stiles wasn’t sure why exactly, but apparently the old traditions were still around and they were causing them trouble right now. That meant that magic still existed in their world. Apparently. “But… you have an emissary too.” the queen started then frowning.

“We do.” Derek nodded, looking at Peter pointedly. Peter just tilted his head to the side, smiling, but he wasn’t happy. It looked like they were talking about this before with his nephew.

“But I’m not sending him there.”

“Why not, he can help our armies.” Derek started.

“I don’t trust him.” Peter hissed. Stiles pursed his lips. He vaguely wondered if working with people who would stab you in the back was indeed difficult especially when you are trying to prove you’re powerful. But he was here to bring Peter to victory and he will do that.

“So.” he started, licking his lips and tried to break the tension. “We have a group of werewolves at the border who still fight for the old regime. But their real reason to fight is because they can’t handle another werewolf pack claiming to be royals… They are strong, fast and use magic.” he muttered, eying the maps. “What does it mean they are strong?” he asked.

“It means their armies and their pack are strong too. Deucalion’s pack is different. They aren’t family, they are bonded only by the pack law.” Peter started. “Each and every member of their pack is an Alpha, with unimaginable strength.”

“That’s reassuring.” Stiles sighed. So they were up against angry werewolf Alphas who could use magic and they were practically unbeatable. Also, the issue was even sensitive.

“What if we expose them?” he asked. All the heads turned toward him as if he’d just committed murder. “Think about it. If you expose them, you will get more support on your side and maybe their own people would turn against them.”

“And there is also a possibility of more of the people joining their side, Stiles.” Derek started annoyed. “The old religion isn’t as dead as you and your father thought. It still exists under the surface, people still practice it.”

“But that’s…” Stiles frowned, because what Derek said indeed caught him off guard. Practicing the old religion was forbidden since his father was on the throne and he thought it was indeed a successful conversion. He thought the country was happy for the new religion. It was modern and clear and offered redemption. It wasn’t as scary as the old religion.

“What is it?” Derek started, catching Stiles’ hesitation. “Suddenly you’re not so confident anymore. Maybe it’s because the world isn’t like Your Majesty had imagined?”

Stiles swallowed, narrowing his eyes at Derek. It was indeed a blow to know that the world wasn’t like he imagined, but it didn’t mean his plan was bad.

“If you expose them… “ Stiles started, looking into Derek’s eyes accepting the challenge there. “You can use the hunters to your benefit.”

The Hales groaned, scoffing.

“It was just a few days since they left and you want to bring them back?” Cora asked.

“They can apparently hunt werewolves, which means they have methods you might not even think of.” Stiles said, flailing a bit. “Come on. Apparently anything goes in this war right now. Expose this Deucalion guy, tell the people there are still werewolves around, watch them be scared and fight against them. You can use their fear.”

Using fear wasn’t a new thing for the Hales, Stiles knew. Most of their underdogs were around because they were terrified. Though, the queen had to wonder exactly how many people knew the most frightening secret of the Hale family.

“Use fear, use the hunters…” Stiles insisted. “And I think you should go too.” he looked at Peter.

The man raised an eyebrow at him, trying to read him. Calculating if Stiles was being serious, or if he had a plan.

“You want to send hunters there, and you want me to go too?” Peter asked, completely ditching the idea, but Stiles shook his head.

“It’s been months since you’ve been on the battlefield.” he started. “You didn’t win those battles back then because you were strong. But because people fear you.”

Stiles knew that what he was saying was dangerous. Sending Peter to the border together with hunters to fight strong werewolves. It was crazy, but it could work.

“The hunters will focus on the Alpha pack, not on you. Expose them, send letters and messages all over the country and then march there with everything you’ve got.” Stiles said.

“It’s certainly a desperate method, don’t you think?” Peter asked back, crossing his arms.

“You can’t be serious! We could end up in danger too; the whole country will start hunting for werewolves again.” Derek snapped, motioning over the room.

“For the werewolves who are causing trouble at the border.” Peter said, glaring at Derek. “I conquered a country, I can handle this too.” he decided nodding.

Stiles sighed. It really was a damn violent tactic, and it could backfire too, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He stayed for the rest of the meeting when they were discussing the details of the attacks and more strategies. Since it was Stiles’ first strategy meeting and he was still inexperienced he had a hard time coming up with ideas, but apparently all those war tactic lessons indeed came in handy. Stiles could finally feel like he did something real for the country.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Evy~

The preparations for the new wave of battles left the fortress pretty hectic. The news about werewolves spread like wildfire and people started more rumors and gossips. Everyone was giving their opinions and Stiles had never seen the court in such racket. He had heard all kinds of opinions and he wasn’t sure if people were against the old or the new religion, or if they were angry at werewolves or afraid of them. For a second he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to expose such things to a country right after war and with a new king who himself was a werewolf too…

“Maybe they will calm down when the battle is won there.” he muttered mostly to himself as he was thinking about it.

“You’re thinking about the war again.” Peter sighed and stopped kissing along his neck. “Why?”

“Because…” Stiles sighed, swallowing and looking up at the king. He had an answer for why he was thinking about it. He was worried out of his mind. Yes, it was his idea to send Peter there, and the king decided to go, but it was utterly dangerous too. Stiles couldn’t even start on how many traps there could be and Peter will walk right in the middle of one. “Because you’re leaving tomorrow, and I’m wondering if we’re prepared.” Stiles sighed, squirming a little under Peter. They were already after dinner and somehow shifting the mood into something less innocent came easier by the day. Stiles was surprised every time it happened so easily without that knot in his stomach, he mostly felt excited rather than scared. But Peter still didn’t like to be touched too much.

There were bruises on his wrists from when Peter had enough of his fingers on him and pinned the boy down on the bed or table. This time, it was a table. Their first time on the table. Stiles refused to roll his eyes, but he was at fault too, because he couldn’t stop kissing Peter right after dinner before they could reach the bed a few steps away. He was getting greedy and sometimes he lost his self control a bit too much when he was with Peter. These occasions were growing alarmingly passionate and Stiles started to get worried.

“And you’re thinking about throwing a celebration while I’m away.” Peter chuckled and snapped his hips against Stiles’, making the boy groan. “It’s such an entertaining thought it makes your mind too occupied while I’m buried this deep inside you.”

“No, it’s not…” Stiles sighed softly. It was true he was thinking about life without Peter, but not a feast. He just… couldn’t imagine how life will be without Peter. He will certainly be gone for weeks, maybe months. That thought wasn’t really reassuring. Stiles squirmed again to try and free his wrists from Peter’s grasp. He wanted to touch him.

“What are you doing?” Peter chuckled, pulling out just to thrust back in a bit more forceful.

“I- I want to touch you. You don’t have to hold me down anymore…” Stiles moaned, throwing his head back as Peter held him down tighter, and rolled his hips against him, thrusting into him. “And I want you to t-touch me.” Stiles swallowed.

“You want, you want.” Peter hummed against his ear, sliding his arm under his waist to change the angle of his hips. “What about what I want?” he asked, smirking against the boy’s ear, working with his hips in a steady rhythm. His abdomen sometimes brushed against Stiles’ hardness which was the worst teasing he could imagine.

“What… what do you want?” Stiles asked out of breath, throwing his legs around Peter’s hips to urge him on.

“I want… you… to not touch yourself while I’m gone.” Peter said.

“Wh-what…?” Stiles’ breath hitched but then his brain couldn’t work anymore when Peter finally took him in his hand and started stroking him. The king quickly pushed him over the edge with all too practiced movements.

“You heard me right.” he panted as he was thrusting into Stiles. “No one should touch you while I’m gone.” he breathed.

“Why... would…” the queen groaned, holding onto Peter’s shoulder finally now that his hands were free. But he couldn’t talk anymore because the man turned him on his stomach to drive back into him. The table wasn’t like the bed, it wasn’t soft and it smelled and Stiles will forever remember what they’d done on their dinner table from now on. Maybe that was Peter’s plan all along…

“It’s just what I want, Stiles.” Peter breathed as he thrust into him with wild and erratic movements. His release was rough and violent and Stiles still felt a hint of fear when Peter got like this. It seemed too insane; it reminded the boy of how Peter was not exactly sane .

“Alright…” Stiles sighed out of breath when Peter finally pulled out of him. “Alright, it’s not a big deal. Just… just promise me you’ll be back.” he panted and wanted to get off the table, but the man pushed him down. “What..?” Stiles frowned looking behind him and he couldn’t help his blush when he realized Peter was watching him. He was enjoying the sight of his own seed dripping out of Stiles. His expression was so smug and so satisfied that the queen had gotten embarrassed.

“Stop that.” he whimpered and moved to get Peter’s hand off him. The king just chuckled, but in the end he let Stiles get off the table. The boy wobbled on his feet since he still wasn’t used to this kind of discomfort, but Peter steadied him and leaned in to kiss him. He was kissing him a lot lately and Stiles didn’t hate it. Quite the opposite.

“It’s an order, Stiles.” Peter said and walked him back to the bed. “I will know if anyone has touched you, or if you have touched yourself.”

“Peter, you’re awful.” the boy sighed, blushing. “How should I know how long you will be out? What if it’ll be months?” he asked snorting and got the covers to warm his cooling body. He preferred that Peter would have done that, but the man wasn’t up for cuddling. Kisses were all he got and Stiles was fine with that so far. “Try to be safe, alright?” he sighed as he watched Peter getting dressed.

“Stiles.” Peter snorted, looking at him almost offended. Of course, he was Peter Hale, he was always safe, he was always a winner; he was the king. And Stiles was worried for him as if this would be his first battle. He felt like a fool.

“Then don’t try to be safe, be reckless, be violent and get yourself killed by other werewolves.” the boy snorted, waving his arm at the other.

“You’re not going to kiss me goodbye?” Peter asked and Stiles could hear the mocking tone in his voice.

“Pff, kiss yourself goodbye.” he said, pulling the covers over his head.

“You just said you were going to miss me.” the man cocked his head to the side, walking to the bed. “You’re acting like a little kid, Stiles.”

“I didn’t-“ the queen started and emerged from under the covers again to give his husband a piece of his mind. But the king covered his lips with his, ending their argument.

In the end Peter didn’t just demand a kiss from Stiles but stayed a few more hours. Stiles liked to believe it was because he will miss him too. Maybe. If Peter was even capable of missing anyone.

Peter took Derek and Cora with him, and also most of the guards to travel to the border and finally decide the battles there. Stiles and the rest of the court escorted them out until the gates of the fortress. When the king and his men were gone behind the forest, Stiles didn’t know for a second what he should do. He raised his glance at Scott and he tried to imagine how their life had been before Peter entered it and he couldn’t exactly recall it. Maybe he changed, maybe the way Scott was looking at him, he didn’t know. But something had definitely changed.

\--

In the absence of Peter Stiles attended to his duties, went to his classes, practiced some harp even and spent most of his time in the library. He was trying to talk to Scott, but it was difficult. There was still a kind of tension between them. Stiles had never thought he will once have totally different political ideas from Scott, but apparently these were such days.

One day, as they were sitting in the library again, a girl was asking permission to enter. Stiles had seen her around a few times, even talked with her over dinner. She was a servant, but Stiles noticed how soft her skin was and her hands didn’t look like they belonged to a servant. Actually, she was kind of an enigma.

“Your Majesty?” she smiled at them. “May I talk to you alone?” she asked when Stiles motioned her to enter.

“Uh, we’re alone.” Stiles said, looking at Scott. “I mean, I don’t hide anything from Scott.” he said grinning. Scott was trustworthy, but Stiles still had a bit of a scare whenever a servant asked to talk to him. He didn’t want to be assaulted again thank you very much. Scott smiled reassuringly at the girl too.

The servant nodded and hesitated still, eying Scott. But in the end she walked up to them.

“I came here to… tell you about my services, Your Majesty.” she started. “I’m called Heather, and I’m a professional bringer of love.” she smiled, bowing a little.

Stiles blinked a bit dumbly, then glanced at Scott. His guard was actually pretty flushed and nervous suddenly. His eyes were pleading, trying to tell Stiles to figure this out himself, because he was a bit embarrassed to say it. But when Stiles was still clueless Scott sighed.

“She means, she’s… you know, she can make you feel good.” he said, clearing his throat. Stiles perked up, frowning at Heather.

“You mean yo- Oh!” he gasped, then gasped again pointing at Heather, then looking at Scott. Then stuttered something again with a laugh.

“Your Majesty?” Heather frowned, tilting her head to the side. “Is there something wrong?” she asked.

“No, no I just… I’m just…” Stiles laughed nervously. “I mean, you want- you want me to cheat on my husband?”

“It’s not a sin, Your Majesty. I’m from the family who served kings and queens way before your time to experience the pleasures of the flesh with someone they want to be with.” she smiled. “Your marriage wasn’t out of love, you married for peace and power. But that doesn’t mean you should never experience the passion of love.”

Stiles blinked utterly surprised as she was talking. So she was from a family who served the royals? Basically, they only sold their bodies to kings and queens who didn’t feel the love and passion toward their wives and husbands?

“You mean… you mean I could…” Stiles started, stuttering. “I mean, you’re here to… so we can..?” he pointed between them and Heather nodded.

“I’m here for your service. You can use me any way you want.” she said.

Stiles was speechless and he was relieved that Scott was too. They were both flabbergasted.

“Wow.” Scott snorted looking at Stiles, with a raised eyebrow. “She’s something.”

“Yes, I mean… no I mean… let me think about it!” Stiles stuttered, blushing. “Thank you uh, Lady… Heather, I- I’ll think about it.”

“I thank you Your Majesty to consider me as one of your lovers.” Heather smiled shyly and bowed before she turned to leave. Stiles swallowed as he watched her go. It was strange, but he remembered the night before Peter had left. He made him promise he won’t let anyone touch him and now someone came here to offer themselves. Maybe Peter knew about this? Maybe Peter knew about these people way before…

Stiles frowned and looked down at his chest, because he felt like something was piercing it. But there wasn’t anything there. Just his heart…

“Stiles.” Scott started when Heather left. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing now?” the queen snapped out of his momentary daze.

“She’s pretty and she would do anything you ask! And you sent her away!” Scott said motioning over at the door. “You don’t want her?”

“Wh- Scott she could be a spy!” Stiles started the best argument he could pull for this. Because saying that Peter made him promise to not touch anyone while he is away sounded way worse.

“A spy, Stiles?” his friend raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I’m just… I’m just not interested?” Stiles shrugged, flipping a book open near him.

“Are you still afraid of Peter?” Scott asked quietly and his friend sighed. It wasn’t like that, quite the opposite.

“No, no I’m…” he started. “I just don’t want this.”

“You’re strange.” Scott commented and Stiles snapped the book close.

“You know, I hate this.” he said. “I hate this, that whatever I do you look at me with those judging eyes and comment on how weird I am.”

“Because you are.” The guard insisted.

“I just changed, Scott. I set my sails to the new winds, it’s called survival.” Stiles snorted, rubbing his forehead.

“It’s fine if you admit you’re afraid of Peter, Stiles.” Scott started compassionately and it just made Stiles even angrier. He wasn’t afraid, not like before. It wasn’t just that, but Scott apparently didn’t believe him. Because you could be either afraid of Peter or angry at him, there were no other options. Right.

“So if I sleep with Heather it means I’m not afraid of Peter, is that what you’re saying?” Stiles asked.

“No. I’m just saying that now at least you can, you know, have a little fun. You can relax a bit.” Scott said, leaning closer to Stiles. The queen sighed groaning. He didn’t want to have fun, he wasn’t in the mood.

“Did you know about them? These… whoever they are, royal… bringers of love.” he asked pointing toward the door with his chin.

“I head rumors, but I never thought it’s real.” Scott shrugged. “All I heard that it’s a family, but they are not related by blood. It’s more like the eldest of the family adopts orphans and raises them to be masters in seduction just for the sake of providing lovers for kings and queens.”

“Who are the members?” Stiles asked after a moment of thoughtful silence. He wondered if his father and mother had secret lovers, or if anyone offered themselves to them. He was  curious, but it wasn’t a subject to be discussed in a letter…

“No one knows, it’s a secret group, you know.” Scott shrugged. “But at least we know Heather is one and apparently she’s one for you. You’re going to let this pass? Peter won’t be back for weeks, maybe for months, he won’t even know.”

Peter would know, Stiles thought. But it wasn’t the only reason he was hesitating over this matter.

“I’ll think about it.” he sighed at last, to end the conversation.

That day, Heather was present to help serve Stiles’ dinner and the queen’s curiosity got the best of him so he invited her over for the night. Out of pure curiosity, he told himself. But when Heather was standing in his room all smiles and being mysterious, Stiles got nervous. He already felt like he was cheating on Peter somehow, even if nothing was happening yet other than Heather stepping into his room.

She had a soft smile on her face and her dress was reminding Stiles of a flourishing civilization from the south long lost. All light and creamy white; just pop loose that golden button by her shoulder and it would reveal all her secrets. And yet, she would still possess many, many more. Stiles licked his lips and patted the bed next to him to invite Heather over to sit down. She bowed and walked over with light steps, her hips swaying in the most delicious way and Stiles swallowed.

Heather was indeed someone who was born and raised to be what they are; to bring pleasure to the luckiest kings and queens. She sat close, her thigh brushing against Stiles’ and the boy could feel the heat of her skin even through their clothes.

“What do you desire of me, Your Majesty?” Heather asked, smiling sweetly and Stiles felt himself blush. She was pretty. Not as pretty as Her Grace Lydia, no one was that pretty, but she had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Just… call me Stiles, alright? I mean, if we’re…” the queen started, throwing his hand weakly into the air. Though he didn’t finish his sentence, because he wasn’t really planning on doing anything with her, he was just utterly curious.

“Stiles.” Heather nodded, still smiling. She was patient, she was perfect. Stiles sighed, eying her a little. Heather’s curly blonde locks were falling on her shoulder and she smelled like a kind of flower, Stiles wasn’t sure which one. Her grey eyes sparkled secretively as she was looking back at her partner. “What’s wrong?” she asked, reaching out for him and brushing his shoulder a little.

“I uh… just…” Stiles sighed, and tried to get himself together. “I’m not sure how to… oh gods.” he said then watched as Heather reached for the button on her dress. “Wait, wait!” he said holding up his hands, stopping her and thankfully he was in time.

“Don’t you want to see what I’m offering to you?” she asked playfully, but dropped her hands in her lap. When Stiles was unable to answer she continued. “Your Majesty… Stiles, if you’re not fond of my body there are others I can point in your direction.” she started, tilting her head to the side.

“What do you mean, what others?” Stiles frowned.

“If you prefer a male lover, Danny would be glad to offer himself.” Heather smiled. “He works at the stables-“

“I-I think I know who Danny is, yes.” the queen stuttered, blushing again. Who knew Danny was one of the... royal courtesans too. “No, I- I just want to know more about you, in general.” He said.

“Aah, that’s nice. You like to talk.” Heather giggled and leaned back on the bed with a sigh. “What would you like to know?”

“For example… are there others of you? I mean- how many?”

“Your Majesty, I’m not answering boring questions.” she smiled. Stiles bit in his lips. Apparently she wasn’t going to talk about her family, or the other lovers.

“So… so I have you and Danny to choose from?” he asked, frowning.

“For now, yes.” she nodded. “If you’re not sure Majesty, you can still try me. I’m well trained and highly educated in many aspects. You won’t be disappointed in me. However… I’m better with my hands and Danny’s having pride in being extremely skilled with his lips.”

Stiles buried his flaming face in his hands. Somehow he could barely believe he is having this conversation. It was also unbelievable that he’s about to turn her down.

“You’re doing this for a long time?” he asked.

“I was raised for such a reason.” Heather nodded.

“What else do you do?”

“Boring question.” Heather smiled.

Stiles sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“You offer your services to all kings and queens?” he tried.

“Yes, but a member of the family is guided to only one of the royal couple. So I’m all yours.” Heather said.

“This means… you offered your services to the king too?” Stiles asked and he hated how his voice quivered at the end of that question. Why was it a big deal?

“Yes, but it wasn’t me personally.” Heather answered lightly. Stiles froze and he felt a cold wind hit him. Suddenly, it all made sense. That’s why Peter asked that ridiculous favor of him. He knew about Heather and her ‘family’, he knew what they offered.

“Did the king…?” Stiles turned to Heather but he saw that she will entitle his question boring and won’t answer. But why was it important anyway? Why did it matter if Peter took them up on their services or not? Stiles wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that he felt like a fool and suddenly really sick. “Oh…” he sighed, looking away.

Heather just smiled, almost understanding, and reached for him, digging her slender fingers into his hair. Stiles shivered at the touch because it was a long time ago since anyone had touched him with such softness and care. Peter wasn’t soft, he was forceful and violent and even his soft touches held that underlying roughness of a wild animal. Her touch wasn’t anything like Peter’s. She made him look at her again and then leaned in to brush her soft lips against his.

She smelled of flowers, her shape was petite and fragile and she wasn’t Peter. She was far from anything that was Peter, Stiles thought. And he pulled away.

“Your- Stiles.” Heather started gently, tilting her head. “It’s alright, I can come back later.”

“No, no don’t.” Stiles started, shaking his head a bit confused.

“Then shall I inform Danny…?” she asked, frowning as the queen stood up and walked a bit away from her.

“No, no Danny.” Stiles shook his head as he hugged himself. “Not now, I…” he started, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll need your services.” His words made Heather drop her smile and frown at him confused.

“Your husband would never know. We’re discrete.” she spoke and thankfully that made Stiles easier to get himself together.

“That’s good news, but I’m still not interested in your services.” Stiles stomped, turning toward her. “And this is final.” Heather eyed him a bit, then sighed. Her smile returned as she stood up from the bed to walk up to the queen.

“I understand, Your Majesty.” she said. “If you ever change your mind, we’ll be around.” she winked and walked past the boy to leave. Stiles let out a sigh, feeling dizzy suddenly. He refused a girl because of Peter. But it wasn’t because he was afraid of him. It was quite the opposite…

\--

Stiles caught himself waking up in Peter’s room. Whenever the night was stretching too long and he couldn’t sleep, he would get out of his bed and walk around the fortress. Sometimes he went for the library, but on rare occasions he ended up at Peter’s room. It was empty, free from any personal things, and Stiles wondered if Peter even had any.

The first time he had wandered into Peter’s room, he had been surprised that it didn’t smell like him. There was no sign of his presence at all; it seemed like any other royal chamber. Stiles had sat on the bed patting the too clean sheets and wondered what the hell he was doing there. Peter was unfaithful to him, he was a liar and he might be unable to feel any kind of attachment to anyone other than himself. Stiles was even wondering if he had been enchanted. He sighed and laid down on the bed which smelled of cotton and old paper. For a second it seemed like Peter didn’t even exist and Stiles felt his stomach clench up. He spent the night there.

After a few days, it happened once again: Stiles slept in Peter’s bed. Sometimes Scott found him there before he could sneak back to his room and looked at him with those judging eyes again and Stiles started to hate it.

He was unable to sleep through the night, he got restless and unfocused. His thoughts were all about the battle at the border and Peter. Which was awful. He was supposed to be happy and relaxed now that the king was finally away and maybe hope for his death, but thinking about that was worse. Stiles felt like he was slowly going mad with every second he spent awake. He was waiting for the letters from the battlefield, but they were too vague for his taste, and the rumors were too wild. He was thinking about going there personally to know how their tactics were working out, but he knew it would just make things worse.

He’d seen Heather and Danny around and on too hot summer nights he was thinking about inviting them to his bed. They must have been better partners for the night than Peter. They would be soft and kind and stay with him and warm his body in the sweetest way, but they weren’t Peter.

Peter wasn’t here.

Then one late night, when not even the air of Peter’s room could satisfy him, he got his paper and ink and wanted to write to the armies at battle. In the end he decided to write to Peter himself. All he could manage to scribble down was ‘ _I hate you so much. – Queen Stiles_ ’ and sealed it so only Peter could open it. He sent it with the fortress’ fastest pigeon and finally he could sleep through the night in his own bed.

A few days later a letter addressed to Stiles arrived with the battle reports. It was from Peter personally, sealed with his own seal. The boy opened it by the dinner table and it read ‘ _Likewise. – King Peter_ ’ in his own handwriting. Stiles started to wonder when he swallowed all the stupid butterflies causing a ruckus in his stomach. It was so stupid and he wanted to tear the letter apart, but instead he put it in his drawer and looked at it several times a day.

He was thinking about talking to Scott about it. But while his guard and friend would support him in anything, when it came to Peter their opinions clashed horribly and Stiles didn’t want to feel more alone.

The battle at the border was won after two months, at the beginning of autumn which was considered a fast victory. All the werewolves had to go through the werewolf trial and who was found guilty was cut in half. Of course there wasn’t any guarantee that they could execute all the wolves, but it was a good example for the others.

Peter’s kingdom was finally whole and he was heading back to Beacon Fortress just in time for the first leaves to fall from the trees.

\--

The day Peter returned to the fortress meant that his kingdom was whole. Royals from all over the country came to welcome him and congratulate him on his victory over werewolves and how hard he would fight for the new religion. The little trick they pulled gave Peter a few good points with the new church too. Winning the support of the new church was almost like winning a battle and Peter finally had had it. His kingdom really will be solid in a few years, Stiles thought.

It was a busy day and Stiles was expecting it, but it didn’t mean he liked it. He was sleep deprived and tired and he couldn’t care less about any of the people. He just wanted to welcome back Peter and get it over with. He was standing in the Great Hall by the thrones, waiting for Peter’s march to enter the room, which they did. Peter was walking in front of them followed by Derek and then the rest of the leaders. They were looking just as tired as Stiles felt. The queen got informed that Cora didn’t return with them, she had gone back to their old lands now that the battle had been won.

It occurred to Stiles that the scene was somehow similar to when he had first met Peter back in the old capital at the beginning of spring. But while back then his heart was beating in fear, right now he got excited spotting Peter all safe and sound. Stiles squeezed his fingers as he was watching his husband walk toward him with heavy steps and a hand on his sword.

“Welcome back.” he greeted him as he walked up next to him. Peter’s eyes weren’t meeting his, no matter how Stiles tried to seek his gaze. But he did take his hand and cast a light kiss on his fingers. Just like he did back then.

“The country’s secure, the old beasts are gone.” Peter exclaimed and the room was filled with a triumphant cheer. But Stiles couldn’t see or hear anything while Peter didn’t let go of his hand. Those damn butterflies.

Throughout the day Peter had to attend to his duties. He was still the king and in two months there were numerous tasks and paperwork that was needed to be done. Stiles was expected to join the merry crowd and enjoy the knights’ game, then the afternoon sit in the Great Hall and watch their people drink and dance and sing. The war was really over, the Hale kingdom was about to get stronger and the new religion was finally absolute. Stiles should have been happy about it, and he really was. But it was difficult to concentrate when he knew that Peter was finally back in the fortress. Watching the young couples dance,Stiles was thinking about these two months without Peter beside him and decided he was not going to sit around and wait for him anymore.

“I… I need to go to the…” Stiles started suddenly, turning to Scott.

“I’ll go with you.” Scott offered, but the queen shook his head.

“No I’ll be fine.” he said and hurried away before his friend could say anything. He arrived to Peter’s office just to see a few dukes already leaving. The queen asked the servants about where he could find Peter and they informed him the king wished to take a bath before he would join the celebrations.

So Stiles was thinking about going to the royal baths, but he needed to do something before that.

\--

The hot water in the tub made the air hot and stuffy. The fortress’ royal bath chamber wasn’t as big as the one back in the capital, but for Peter it was perfect right now. He just wanted to wash off the dust from the road and clean his wounds. Though he could have gone without the lavender scented oils, he thought as he was watching the bath servant pour the last bucket of water into the wooden tub.

“Leave now.” the king told his bath servant and started undressing. The servant bowed and disappeared behind the folding screen between the door and the tub. “From the room, too.” Peter barked and heard the servant hiss and hurry out, closing the door behind him. The king sighed softly and dropped all his clothes on the ground without much thought. He climbed into the wooden tub filled with hot, lavender scented water and let out another sigh. As the water reached his forearm he winced. It was a bite he’d gotten in their last battle. He had a suspicion that it had been planned to bite him in front of his men, planting the seed of doubt in them, that Peter will be turned into a wolf too… Peter had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea, but in the middle of a battle, people pay little attention. The bite was deep and from an Alpha, so it wasn’t healing as fast as any other injuries he had, so he had to make an effort to hide it.

Peter rubbed his forehead as he was getting comfortable in the tub, leaning his head against the side. The warm water was lapping at his chest, actually calming him down a little. A few minutes later he heard the door open and he was ready to shout at anyone who would dare to disturb his peace, but the intruder’s scent was familiar, and that rabbit heartbeat only belonged to one person. Peter caught himself smiling a little. He moved his head to look over his shoulder just to see Stiles come from behind the folding screen.

The king was away for only two months, but he could see how Stiles had grown even in that short time. His jaw was more cut and he had maybe lost some weight too. Also, he definitely wasn’t sleeping well either. Peter watched as he walked to stand next to his tub with a tired expression.

“You look awful.” Peter commented to him and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Right back at you.” he told him and sat down on the edge of the wooden tub. The king just chuckled and raised his hand to ask for Stiles’ for some reason. He didn’t know why he did that. He just wanted to hold the boy’s hand. They were alone, no one could see, it was fine. The queen placed his hand in Peter’s and he gently grasped it.

“What’s this?” Stiles asked, leaning forward to see the bite on Peter’s forearm.

“It’s a war injury, Stiles.” Peter snorted, eying the bite too. The silence of the boy confirmed he was troubled by it too. The queen was thinking about the same thing Peter was afraid of. “No one saw him bite me.” he lied, looking up at Stiles.

“Is that true?” the queen asked frowning and Peter wasn’t in the mood to argue about it. Instead he reached out and pulled the boy in the tub causing the water to spill over the edge. Stiles gasped out, trying to keep his balance in vain. He landed on Peter’s lap, soaking wet and smelling of lavender. The scent reminded him of his wedding day. They bathed him in lavender water that day too. He wondered if Peter even remembered that silly little detail. Probably not.

Peter remembered. He remembered the little, trembling boy in the white wedding clothes with the closed expression throughout their wedding ceremony and that he smelled like fear and lavender. He was just a scared child back then who Peter wanted to crush. And now here they were, both of them out of their minds and bathing in lavender water.

Stiles leaned in to kiss him and Peter welcomed him eagerly. He put his arms around the strong frame of the boy, once again feeling he’d lost some weight and Peter felt something he hadn’t in a long time: concern for someone other than himself. He heard Stiles whisper his name against his lips and his body reacted. It had been months since they were together and the way Stiles was kissing him was just making it worse. His eagerness also showed he kept his promise of staying untouched.

“You kept your promise.” Peter smirked against the boy’s lips.

“Of course I did.” Stiles huffed and shifted around a little awkwardly to get rid of his wet clothes. “So now I demand- I demand you to satisfy me right now!” he tried to sound less desperate than he felt. The king leaned back a bit to watch him shuffle with his clothes, seeing the muscles on his chest and shoulders flex and glint in the light of the torches around them. Stiles had grown and he was getting more and more beautiful by the day. Peter licked his lips when Stiles got rid of his pants and his attention was back on him again.

His queen moved to straddle his lap and Peter’s hands found their way on his hips, squeezing him. Then, to his greatest surprise, Stiles’ fingers were wrapping around his member, making him jump. Since when did he become this sensitive, Peter wondered as he let out a shaky breath, eying Stiles. The boy noticed his reaction too, judging by the excited sparkle in his eyes, and moved his hand on Peter. The man groaned, refusing to arch his back to get more of that sweet friction.

“Wait…” Peter swallowed and grabbed Stiles’ arm when he moved closer to him. “I’ll…”

“Prepare me?” Stiles asked, tilting his head to the side with a smirk. “I already did.” he said and placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders to rise a little. He took the king in his hand again and positioned him at his entrance.

“What?” Peter frowned, then gasped, grabbing onto the edge of the tub at the sensation of Stiles hot wetness sliding on him. He really had prepared himself well and Peter groaned instead of calling any of the old gods. He didn’t really expect to react to Stiles in such a desperate way after only two months.

“Ah… did you get bigger?” the boy breathed, wincing as he was working his hips to take in Peter.

“You didn’t prepare enough.” the man wheezed, but it wasn’t exactly the case. Though he wasn’t about to explain it to Stiles just yet. Even he was in denial about it. “Careful.” he breathed and put his arms around the boy’s waist, pulling him closer. Stiles whimpered, sliding his arms around Peter’s shoulders. He was trembling sweetly from excitement, aroused and impatient. His scent was something that got to Peter, sneaked into his brain and under his skin, making him growl. He lost his patience and thrust up into Stiles, burying himself deeper again.

Stiles let out a shaky breath, clinging to him, but Peter didn’t smell fear on him. He wanted this just as much as the man. It wasn’t helping Peter’s case at all, he knew he’s going to take the boy fast and rough.

“I missed you…” Peter heard Stiles say against his ear, but his breath hitched when the king grabbed his erection.

“I can tell.” the man breathed and squeezed Stiles, making him unable to speak any of his nonsense again. He dipped his head to lick the hot water from the boy’s neck and leave his own mark behind, sucking and licking against skin that was bruising too easily and in the prettiest way. He listened to Stiles’ little whimpers, his curses and his calls for the gods and sometimes he would say Peter’s name in pleasure and if the man would have a heart it would break. He couldn’t imagine anymore how it was to miss someone this much.

Stiles rolled his hips, trying to get used to Peter’s size and his roughness while he was clinging to his shoulders. He felt his husband suck on that spot on his neck and he saw white for a second. Peter wasn’t soft or gentle, but he wanted him, he was his husband and he was _Peter_. Stiles moaned, picking up his pace as his body was screaming for release. Peter was thrusting deep inside him wildly, making the water around them spill over the side of the tub from time to time and Stiles didn’t care. All he cared about was to kiss and touch Peter and be touched by him and finally ease that ache in his chest.

He called Peter’s name, throwing his head back in pleasure when he felt like drowning and Peter gave everything to him. He helped him through his release with familiar movements and small words that meant nothing, but it was Peter’s voice and his breath and his presence.

Somewhere in the middle of Stiles’ pleasure, Peter’s passed the point of no return too. He leaned his forehead on Stiles’ shoulder as his body tensed up. His moans and groans sounded like growls and snarls as he let himself be lost in his bliss. He could smell Stiles and lavender and their scent together. He heard Stiles’ pained moan as he snapped his hips against him, riding his own waves of pleasure, long after Stiles was spent.

Peter’s limbs were trembling faintly when he finally came to his senses, still holding tightly onto Stiles. He felt water or sweat drip from his temples as he raised his head, nuzzling into the boy’s neck, then meeting him in a tired kiss. Well, maybe Peter had missed him too, just a little.

\--

Maybe surprising Peter like that in the baths wasn’t exactly Stiles’ smartest idea, but he didn’t care. They spent the rest of the day in the Great Hall, watching the people have fun. Though most of the time Peter got approached by numerous people wanting to talk about the new system and mostly about money and lands. It was time for loyal dogs to get their share for supporting Peter and they were in a hurry about it. Stiles watched as yet another duke appeared for some discrete whispering. The queen sighed, deciding that he will ask Peter about his underdogs one day. Maybe he should ask him now, he wondered, instead of the question which really burned his insides.

Stiles caught a glimpse of Heather from time to time as she served wine and he was sure that he spotted Danny dancing just a few minutes ago. They were his share of bed warmers, but it meant Peter must have a set of his own too. Which was fine, really, because why would Stiles care? He felt like a silly little naïve girl or boy, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to ask Peter about them back in the baths, but he was just so happy to see him in private, he couldn’t get himself to ask something that awful. Well, depending to who it was awful, of course.

The queen ended up with his stupid thoughts once again when Peter left with a late guest to his office. Stiles watched him leave the party and he felt pretty tired himself too.

“Stiles.” he heard Scott’s voice as he stepped next to this chair just as Peter had left. “Derek told me that Peter got bit by a werewolf.” he whispered.

“And how is that relevant, he can’t be turned, he’s already…” Stiles rolled his eyes, but Scott squeezed his shoulder.

“Of course, but others saw it too.” he pressed. “There are rumors that he’s been turned.”

Stiles swallowed and suddenly his mouth went dry. He knew what that meant; it meant that some people indeed had seen that wolf bite the king. If there were more people saying the same, it was enough to start a trial against him.

“There were already rumors about him anyway.” Stiles shrugged, trying to sound calm.

“It could be a chance.” Scott said and Stiles shivered.

“A chance for what?” he snapped, turning to his friend. Scott looked at him almost sad and Stiles didn’t need that. Instead he decided to leave too, he wasn’t thinking straight anyway and he felt like he could sleep three days straight. He dismissed Scott for that day and went back to his chambers.

Stiles was convinced that he will indeed sleep for three days, but he had to be disappointed. He woke up at an ungodly hour when all the celebration was already calming down and even the drunk were sleeping. There was no moon in the sky, everything was silent and Stiles frowned up at the stars out his window as if they personally insulted him. He sat up in his bed, looking around. He felt like he hadn’t slept at all and his thoughts went to Peter once again. He spent so many nights thinking about him, and wondering what he would do if he were back… But now Peter was back, there was no war anymore.

Peter was back and Stiles was in his room, still moping? He decided that’s not acceptable and got up to wander to the king’s room once again. He took that trip so many times to find the man in his room in vain, , but this time he knew he will be there. Maybe he would even be asleep. Did Peter ever sleep? As Stiles was thinking about it, he arrived to the royal chamber and as he approached it the door opened. Peter was standing there in his night tunic, looking just as tired as Stiles felt.

“Come in.” he said in a hoarse voice and Stiles obliged without a word. As he entered the room the faint smell of lavender hit him and his heart skipped a beat.

“How did you know…?” he asked once he was inside the room, pointing at the door with this thumb.

“I heard you. Your steps aren’t as graceful as you think they are.” Peter rolled his eyes and stepped to his table to pour some wine into a cup.

“Why are you awake?” Stiles asked, suddenly feeling like a fool. Peter looked at him as if he had just asked something stupid.

“It’s actually your fault.” the king started and went back to his bed, sitting down and enjoying some wine.

“Mine? If you tell me my ungraceful steps woke you, I swear-“

“Your smell.” Peter started tired and motioned over to his bed with his cup. “Were you sleeping in my bed?” he asked frowning. Stiles felt himself blush and he bit in his lips, eying Peter.

“What… what if I did, huh? Is it a crime or what?” he asked, crossing his arms and Peter glared at him.

“It’s annoying.” he said. Smelling Stiles after two months and not having him in his bed for real. It was awful. It made Peter so bothered he couldn’t sleep when he was finally alone. Not that he sleeps much, but he could use those few hours without a particular individual’s upsetting scent.

“Well, you know what? I’m annoyed too.” Stiles started, throwing up his arms.

“What could it be this time?” Peter asked, emptying his cup and placing it on the nightstand.

“You knew.” the queen started walking up to Peter. “You knew about… the courtesans.”  he said angrily, surprising himself that he indeed felt furious over this. The king tilted his head at him, frowning.

“I did.” he started slowly, waiting for Stiles to continue. The boy fisted his hands, suddenly feeling that piercing feeling in his chest again. He had to swallow to steady his voice before he could speak.

“Did they… did you? I mean…” he started then shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. “Did you sleep with them?” he asked and he hated that Peter probably could hear his heartbeat.

“No.” Peter answered and Stiles perked up. Was that a lie? Or was he serious? The boy knew he was supposed to trust Peter, but it was difficult. Even if this question wasn’t about the country, it wasn’t even that serious, it was just crushing his insides for some silly little reason. Peter sighed and decided to refill his cup so he stood up and walked to the table again. Stiles kept his gaze on the bed, unable to speak.

“You’re not going to ask why?” Peter asked and moved to him, offering the wine. Stiles frowned down at the drink in his hand.

“I didn’t know there was a why. Is there? There is a why? Why?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but really, he was rambling. He took the cup just to do something with his fidgeting hands and took a sip.

“Because I don’t want them, Stiles.” Peter said sighing. “They were supposed to be my personal little whores, but they disgust me. I didn’t choose them, and I’m not interested in them.” he continued as Stiles was drinking more. “I was never interested in putting my cock into anyone in the first place.” he said, making the boy choke on his drink.

“Well, you certainly didn’t look like that on our first night.” he coughed blushing.

“That’s because I wanted to own you.” Peter smirked and Stiles rolled his eyes. “I continued wanting to own you, and now, you’re mine. My possession, Stiles. I don’t need and I don’t want anyone else.” Peter said and the boy shivered as he felt his hands on his waist.

“I don’t want to own them.” Peter continued. “I want to own _you_.”

Stiles eyed the man at his explanation and the worst thing was: he believed it. Because it was messed up, it suited Peter’s way of thinking perfectly and Stiles had to hear such dreadful things to feel _better_. He looked at Peter, wondering how he could get to the point of missing him, but then he leaned over and kissed his lips and Stiles remembered again.

“Alright.” he said in a shaking voice, squeezing the cup in his hand.

“They tried to put their sticky paws on you while I was away, didn’t they?” Peter asked in a low voice, but the queen could hear the underlying anger. “I clearly forbid them to approach you. I thought I was placing a good example if they won’t do as I order.”

“What example?” Stiles frowned, looking up at the king and Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked and the boy immediately shook his head.

“No, no I’m fine with not knowing.” he swallowed. “But don’t hurt them anymore.”

“Oh? Maybe you have an eye on one of them?” Peter asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Of course not.” the queen huffed. “They are… well, they are just doing their job, however awful it is. They don’t need to feel even more miserable, you know?” he shrugged looking up at Peter. The man just rolled his eyes and Stiles knew that was all the reaction he will get from him about the matter. He just hoped Peter won’t hurt them anymore. As he was thinking about it, his eyes fell on the bed.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked before he gave permission to his mouth to even say those words. He sounded desperate even for his taste and he was sure Peter would refuse him. Didn’t he say his smell on his bed was annoying?

“Only if you stay quiet.” Peter answered and turned to lead Stiles back to his bed. The boy was the most surprised. He put his cup down on the nightstand and crawled in bed with the king. He vaguely wondered how Peter didn’t try to turn this into something dirtier, but he was fine with it. He just wanted to spend the night and not wake up wondering where Peter could be. His bed was big enough for four people, but Stiles moved so close he could feel the man’s warmth as they laid down.

Stiles turned on his side after he pulled the covers up to his neck, facing Peter and watching him prepare for sleep. Wow, so he was sleeping sometimes too. The boy yawned, nuzzling into the pillow which still didn’t smell like Peter, but it was fine because he was laying close to him.

“Peter…” he started and got a groan from the king.

“Stiles.” Peter started, sending a warning glare at the boy, but Stiles didn’t care. He had one more question for him.

“Did you miss me?” he asked and watched another tired eyeroll from the king.

“Not even a little.” the man lied quietly, eying the boy with a tired expression. Stiles smiled a little and finally closed his eyes.

Other people have brave heroes on white horses; yet others sleep with women with lips as red as a cherry and a heart as gentle as the sunshine. Other people exchange words of affections and caresses on late, orange afternoons. Lovers cast playful kisses and dance to the music of the forest, yet others laugh wholeheartedly over dinner. Someone goes to bed with a kiss and a slice of apple pie made just for them. Someone will wake up to a breakfast a little burned, but made just for them.

None of these people were them, Stiles thought. He didn’t get a hero or a cherry pie. The gods gave him a lying, cowardly snake disguised as a wolf. But it was his share, that’s what he got and that was what made his dreams finally calm and his chest not that tight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... this is the point where my heart started to break for these two. IDK man, I just have a lot of feels for them. XD


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOLESTATION WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER!!
> 
> Betaed by Evy!
> 
> Updating now, cuz I won't have time tomorrow.

Peter didn’t miss Stiles while he was away. If anything, he was glad he could finally feel that burn in his blood when he could dig his sword into someone on the battlefield. He didn’t plan to leave Beacon Fortress for a while, but the Alpha pack at the border didn’t give him any other choice and Stiles’ tactical advices were just as useful as Derek’s. Though, the boy certainly wasn’t that violent in his tactics.

Peter wanted to strengthen his position as king before he goes straight into battle again. So he left Beacon Fortress with Derek and Cora, leaving the queen behind.

It was strange having faith in Stiles, or having faith in anybody for that matter. Peter always used fear and threats to get his way, to get people to act the way he wants them to, and with time, people offered their help first in fear of Peter. He threatened Stiles, he broke him; he tried to control him as he tried with so many before him and it was working. Until it wasn’t anymore. It wasn’t like the boy grew immune, it was more like… what did he say? ‘Set his sails?’ Stiles turned the situation to his advantage, to try and work with Peter and it was frustrating, because he was doing it well. He wasn’t greedy and violent like Derek, he was thoughtful and wanted the country to flourish after the war. He was a true King, Peter thought.

Actually, Peter was thinking a lot about Stiles. He didn’t miss him per se, but he was thinking about him a lot. Whenever he could have a meal, he wondered what would his queen say about it, or how disgusted he would be that Peter didn’t wash away the blood from his skin before going to bed, or how hollow his expression would be if he was seeing him slaying all those men. When Peter was alone, he was thinking a lot about Stiles’ eyes; those bright, golden brown, sparkling eyes of his which could talk to him without words and the king wondered how many times he had seen the boy that he could remember him so vividly.

His dreams weren’t always about fire or destruction anymore, but about Stiles’ touches and his small takes of breath when he was tasting him. It confused Peter because he wasn’t dreaming of anything like that before and yet, after a month of being in battle, the place he believed was his home, he couldn’t help but think about that stupid boy back in the fortress. Stiles was concerned for him when he left and Peter caught himself wondering why: for political reasons? Most probably. Yet, Peter still thought about it a lot.

The king was thinking too much about Stiles. Sometimes he caught himself seeing him on the battlefield, but that was impossible. It was a weak moment like that when a wolf could sneak close to him. So close that the bastard could leap out and bite him in front of his men. The king liked to think he was fast in throwing off the beast, but you can never know in the heat of the battle… He had gotten bit by a werewolf and Peter knew there will be rumors about it.

And there were indeed gossips. His men asked how he is feeling, they were watching his every move and he had to hide his arm and the bite which was healing painfully slowly, because it was from one of Deucalion’s alphas. Peter refused to think this will be significant and hoped his men will soon go on. Hopefully. The next time he even remembered he was hurt was when Stiles saw the bite at the baths.

Peter was confused, but not because of Stiles; he was confused because he was at a loss of what to do. He had gotten the whole kingdom at his feet, he was married into the royal family and he still didn’t feel safe. One dark autumn night without a moon Peter realized he didn’t feel safe. He partly rebelled so no one could harm him again, but during the road he lost everything what would provide the real safety for him. Derek wanted his head, Cora probably wanted the same, his underdogs demanded lands and power and titles and no one wanted to stay with him. Peter growled, looking out of his window, wondering about it. It was an awful realization and it made him glad for the future destruction of the kingdom. He leaned back in his bed, not really getting why, because he didn’t feel like sleeping. As his head hit the pillow a familiar scent welcomed him.

The scent belonged to Stiles, his queen. Peter frowned as he was thinking about him, again. It was annoying, and it was awful that his thoughts were occupied with someone this long and this intense. Peter wanted to sleep, wanted to disappear, but then he would see the fire and the smoke again, and he didn’t want that, he was tired.

Peter sometimes thought he was sleeping when he was awake, and at times he thought he was awake when he was sleeping. It made him right out scared sometimes. Like when he was watching Stiles sleep. He didn’t know if he really was looking at the queen’s sleeping posture, or if he was just dreaming of him. Peter didn’t want it to be a dream, because it showed he was going mad in a different way and he didn’t want it to be real, because it showed he was desperate. But when the boy moved and gave a sleepy sound Peter realized he was awake… and his throat went dry.

Stiles didn’t wake up, he just snuggled under his covers. He was warm and smelled good and he was loud even in his sleep and Peter winced. He wanted to go back to his room, he didn’t want to get more involved, more tangled up in this. But he caught himself leaning down and nuzzling against Stiles’ cheek and then his jaw. The boy sighed and slowly came awake as he felt Peter’s nose and lips against his skin. Peter expected him to push him away, but he just slowly reached out and put an arm around his neck. Stiles moved further up the bed and Peter followed him, he crawled in with his wife, pressing his nose against his collarbone, inhaling deeply. He felt Stiles’ warmth on the sheets as he slipped under the covers and moved closer to him. Stiles pulled him closer. He slid his arms around him without Peter saying anything. Peter realized he indeed missed Stiles, but not just him: his safety. He could trust his queen and not in the way he trusted his family, or his underdogs, Stiles provided a different kind of safety for him, something Peter didn’t expect to even want before. Yet, there he was, in Stiles’ bed. He was afraid of saying anything, because he was in a vulnerable position and he knew Stiles knew that, but neither of them said anything.

Peter settled against Stiles then he felt a hand cover his ears and he sighed. Yes, that’s why he was there, that’s what he wanted… silence. He closed his eyes and covered the boy’s hand on his ear. He had never fallen asleep faster than that night.

From then on, they kept sleeping in each other’s beds, spending most of the night. Stiles would always stay for breakfast too and it was fine. It was actually the only time of the day they could be together, Peter realized: during the night and the mornings. The day either of them had their own duties or they were tackling the actual politics, which was pretty difficult to navigate lately. People tried to gain power and lands in the new regime, and others were raising their worries over the new religion and how violent Peter was against the old religion.

Between politics and duties, Stiles was teaching him about the stars. Showed him which one was the one which rose the first and disappeared the last from the sky. Stiles was talking about the moon too and after that Peter didn’t feel that much afraid of it. It wasn’t a goddess, but rather something created by the ancient gods to provide light in the night, and when he was thinking about it, it really could be something giving hope to people. Stiles told him about the images in the stars, about how the future and the past both could be read from them and about how the night sky was like a map. They sometimes spent half their nights sitting on the top of the keep, watching the sky.

Peter was getting used to Stiles, to his presence, to his smell and how he felt. It felt nice to have someone like him, and yet terrifying too. Peter started to realize that Stiles was a weak spot of his… and that thought pushed the boy even more into the ‘weak spot’ category.

\--

Stiles didn’t know what he expected when the war was finally over. He really had little idea, but what happened was strangely nice. A few days after Peter finally arrived back to the fortress he visited him during the night. He didn’t actually wake him, he practically snuggled up to him, demanding to lay next to Stiles. And the boy was more than eager to welcome him, because that was all he wanted. He could hold Peter, he could make sure he was next to him, and he wasn’t away fighting some war and getting bitten by other werewolves.

After a few days, Stiles dared to ask for breakfast while he was still in Peter’s room. It was a strange feeling spending breakfast in his bed, with Peter still being there, but somehow they could manage. Then it started to happen more often and sometimes Peter would stay with him too. It was nice. They were talking too. About politics, mostly. They weren’t talking about anything personal much.

Weeks went by like this and Stiles was sure that this will be the new rhythm and he didn’t mind. He thought he could get used to it.

Then Scott walked up to him one day after his classes.

“Your Majesty.” he started and Stiles looked up from the book he was reading. Scott was only official like that when he had something serious to discuss. “May I have a word?” he asked. Stiles couldn’t help biting his lips and nodded.

“What is it?” he asked and blinked when Scott presented him a paper.

“It’s a request for leaving, Your Majesty.” the guard said, looking at the paper. “I would like to go back to the old capital.”

Stiles froze as he was reading the lines of the letter and listened to Scott. He tried to look at this in a professional manner, but he just couldn’t.

“You’re leaving me?” he asked then, looking up at the guard. Scott’s face was scrunched up in a pained expression. He looked away for a second, then took a deep breath,

“I was… thinking about seeing Allison.” he started carefully. Stiles stared at him for a while and when he didn’t speak Scott continued. “The war is over and Peter… seems like he calmed down. I was thinking I could use a little time back home.”

“Ah…” Stiles started, realizing for a second how it was his home too. It just occurred to him that he was already away for more than half a year now. A hint of homesickness hit him and he wondered if he shouldn’t ask Peter for a visit back home.

“You should come too.” Scott said as if reading his mind. The queen smiled a little sadly.

“Yeah… Maybe I will.” he nodded. “I might follow you.” he added and took up Scott’s request to sign it. “You can stay as long as you wish, alright?” he said.

“It won’t take long…” Scott started, but he seemed really happy that Stiles let him go for that long.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine now, I promise.” Stiles grinned.

“You will be fine, it’s Peter who won’t be.” Scott spoke quietly as he took the letter from his queen and Stiles froze.

“What do you mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“The werewolves from the border, they are still around. They might have lost the battle, but they can still be around, people say…” Scott continued. “They might come for Peter.”

Stiles bit in his lips as he was listening to his friend. He couldn’t believe this. Peter was in danger, probably, and Scott was leaving them…

“Do you know something?” Stiles asked, tilting his head to look into Scott’s face. The guard just gazed back at him, not answering. For the first time in his life, Stiles realized he had no idea what Scott was thinking or how much he knew. They really grew apart these months.

“Alright.” he sighed, rubbing his cheek as he sat back at his table. “So, you’re going tomorrow?”

“I don’t see why I should wait.” Scott admitted with a shrug, blushing a little. He was really missing Allison and now that Stiles knew how bad it could feel, he didn’t blame the boy.

“You really shouldn’t.” he smiled. “And you’re excused for today. Send your substitute, I suppose you already picked them.”

“I did. He is one of my best guards, Your Majesty.” Scott smiled.

“Tell my father I send him my regards.” he said and waved his hand, dismissing Scott.

The guard actually hesitated to go, but then he bowed and he went. Scott left and Stiles met that loneliness he felt again. His throat got tighter and his chest hurt. Scott didn’t just want to see Allison, he wanted a break from it all and Stiles didn’t blame him.

Stiles knew that he let Scott go with a light heart, but he didn’t expect him to already miss him the next day. So to somehow keep his mind occupied he put through his new guard the most awful queen behavior he could ever come up with.

“Library research.” Stiles muttered and turned his head to Peter who was standing by the door of the library for a while now. A guard was climbing the highest ladder to the top of the shelves for the biggest encyclopedia Stiles could see. Peter raised an eyebrow at the unfortunate fellow then looked at Stiles. “I hate him.” the queen muttered with a shrug.

Peter just chuckled, crossing his arms and watching how the guard balanced three books as he tried to get another one. When he was done he climbed down and presented the huge, dusty books to Stiles with a triumphant grin. The boy took one and looked at it a bit bored.

“This is the fifth to seventh volume.” he frowned.

“The one you wanted, You Majesty.” the guard blinked, his smile slowly melting from his face.

“No I said I maybe need the fifth volume, but then I realized I don’t. I need volume thirteen to twenty.” Stiles sighed and handed the book back to the guard. “Bring them to me.”

“But—“

“Bring them to me.” Stiles started a bit louder and the guard already ran to put the books back and bring what the queen asked.

Peter watched the interaction with amusement, then walked up to Stiles.

“Shall I visit you tonight?” he asked and the queen blinked at him.

“If it’s to your liking.” he muttered, but he knew Peter could tell the jump his heart did at the news.

“Very well then.” Peter nodded, and turned to leave. Stiles watched him go and wondered lightly how their conversations had changed, and how different their touches, their words their whole behavior were from when they had started. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, all he knew was that he was maybe _happy_.

\--

Stiles woke when he felt the bed move a little. It felt like Peter was hovering over him. He sighed, frowning a little as he opened his eyes and looked up at Peter who was indeed leaning over him, in a protective stance. Something was wrong. Peter was half turned into his wolf form. His teeth were long and sharp and his fur grew on the side of his face. His red, glowing eyes were seeking something in the corner of the dark room.

“Peter?” Stiles whispered, watching him for a few seconds, because this was the first time he had seen him this close. Wild and more like an animal. The queen blinked, still a bit sleepy and followed Peter’s gaze with his. Another pair of red eyes were looking back at them. Stiles gasped. Peter growled from deep in his throat, baring his teeth at the intruder. Stiles licked his lips as he was eying the other wolf too. He had never seen him before; he didn’t resemble any of the servants. Peter slowly shifted, getting ready to attack and Stiles swallowed. He opened his mouth to call Peter but the other werewolf couldn’t handle the tension anymore and jumped at them. Stiles screamed, scrambling away while Peter met the beast head on.

Peter bit into the other wolf’s neck, trying to snap it, but their attacker’s physics were much more built than the king’s. He was huge, with eyes so determined Stiles was afraid to look into them once again. His arms were twice Peter’s size and apparently he was stronger too. But he wasn’t as fast as Peter and he was trying to use that to his advantage. Peter could throw him across the room away from the bed and that bought Stiles time to hide behind the bed and find some kind of shelter.

The two wolves weren’t holding back and Stiles could hear the wall break as Peter got smashed against it. Soon the familiar scent of blood filled the room too. Stiles was crouching by the bed on the ground, watching the two monsters bite at each other, destroying the room in the process. It was fascinating in a way, because it wasn’t a sight Stiles often stumbled upon, yet it was frightening. The boy bit his lip as he was searching the underside of his bed for a weapon he hid there months ago; it almost felt like years ago.

For Stiles’ greatest relief, he found the dagger and grabbed the hilt of it. He turned back to the fighting wolves and waited. He had only one shot at this, his target wasn’t exactly sitting still after all, and if he injures him in a bad place it might just fuel his violence. Or what if he injures Peter? But then an opening occurred.

The werewolf pushed Peter against the wall again, biting at him and Peter struggled to get out of his grip. Stiles jumped over the bed the fastest he could manage and stabbed the dagger in the back of the monster.

The roar that followed was shaking all of the room and Stiles felt like his dinner would come back up soon too. Warm blood tainted his hands as he drew the weapon deeper into the warm body in front of him. He didn’t want to do half work with it, he wanted to kill the beast.

When he felt like the dagger wouldn’t go any deeper, and that the wolf stopped moving, he let the knife go and stumbled back. His heart was beating like a rabbit’s, his limbs were shaking and his hands and chest were covered in blood. Stiles watched as Peter pushed the corpse of the wolf away from him with a confused expression.

Then Peter spotted the dagger in the wolf’s back and froze. It was the same dagger Stiles received to kill him. He slowly turned back to his human form, but his red glare stayed on the weapon. Stiles swallowed, watching Peter recognize the dagger he used and why it killed the huge wolf so fast. It seemed like as if time started to slow down from then on. Peter straightened his back and raised his gaze to Stiles.

The boy was shaking, and the blood on his hands started to dry and go cold along with the body in their room. But he was worried about something else: he saw what Peter was thinking about.

“Peter…” he started, but suddenly he didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He kept the dagger for Peter, actually. If maybe he changes his mind about him, or maybe Peter will go feral and try to kill him. It was something Stiles had to think about no matter how he felt about Peter: his own safety. And he had a dagger that was useful against werewolves, it would be stupid not to keep it. “I can explain.” Stiles said and he knew it’s the worst he could start with right now.

Peter motioned him to shut up and leaned down to take out the dagger from the corpse with slow, careful movements. It just confirmed that it was indeed the exact dagger Derek gave Stiles.

“I kept it for… emergencies.” Stiles said a bit out of breath. “I didn’t…” he started, but he had no idea what to say.

“Emergencies.” Peter finally spoke, eying the weapon. “Am I one of that?” he asked, with a half smile, but there was nothing happy in it. Stiles had flashbacks of the time when they got married, Peter had the same expression: that cold, mocking gaze. Now he was wearing the same face and Stiles felt so small and helpless. Suddenly, he felt like the last months of his life had no meaning if Peter could turn this cold against him this fast. He just spread his bloody arms in a helpless motion. He had no explanation to give and fairly, he didn’t want to bother anymore. He felt so done. He was done.

“No.” he sighed at Peter’s question, but the man wasn’t listening to him anymore. He was dealing with the guards who finally could break into the room. They had heard the fighting and arrived pretty late. Stiles wondered if they weren’t a bit too late even. But he was more occupied with watching Peter and trying to make him understand why he had kept the dagger. But Peter wasn’t looking at him, he ordered the search of the whole fortress for other traitors, then told the servants to help Stiles clean and give him a new room until they clean this one from the blood. He didn’t look at his wife during that time.

In fact, Peter stopped talking to him from then on. He didn’t invite him to meetings and sent him away whenever he visited him. They didn’t spend more breakfasts and dinners together and Stiles felt like falling. With Scott missing from next to him he felt like there was no one he could talk to about it and it just broke his heart more.

At night he dreamed about the blood on his hands, and how warm it felt, and how red it was. Just as red as Peter’s blaming gaze the last time he looked at him. Stiles could hear the king’s trust shatter and everything he was working for these last months had disappeared. He woke up more and more hopeless each day he found his bed cold and empty. He was wondering if this isn’t the perfect time to visit the old capital.

The incident also made people more aware of werewolves again. The war might have ended, but there was a new fear spreading through the country: the fear of werewolves and the beasts of the old gods. Stiles knew he and the Hales were responsible for the hysteria, but it seemed like the only way to fight against that rebelling pack. Yet, after the assassination attempt people couldn’t stop their blabbering mouths. Stiles heard the rumor about Peter being bitten and turning into a werewolf again and people started to notice things. It wasn’t like they were smart, it was just they had gotten more aware.

Stiles wasn’t sure he liked where it was all going. The rumors were more and more violent against Peter and werewolves, which was just wasn’t fair. This was exactly the same kind of thinking that made Peter what he was: a cruel, destructive warlord. But for a more urgent matter, the rumors were turning the people against Peter. Stiles decided to try to talk to him once again.

“I need to talk to you!” he banged at the door of Peter’s office one day. He knew the king was inside, having another meeting with one of the dukes about lands. But as Stiles tried to open the door the guard stepped in front of him.

“His Majesty is busy.” he said carefully. “He also ordered to keep Your Majesty out of his sight until further notice.”

“What?! He ordered that?!” Stiles gasped, looking at the guard in disbelief. “Then I order you to scrap all that and let me in!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Your Majesty.” the man said, purely nervous about the situation. The queen squinted his eyes, considering his options.

“I could send you to dungeon for going against my orders, soldier.” he spoke, crossing his arms and he watched the man sweat.

“I know, Your Majesty.” he said nodding and didn’t budge. Stiles could barely believe it. People were still more afraid of Peter than of him. Which was annoying when it came to a situation like this.

“Then I’m going to wait for him.” Stiles decided and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. The guard said nothing, but slowly stepped back to his post, sighing in relief. The queen hummed a children’s song to himself as he was waiting. Then suddenly leaped to the door and opened it, barging into the study.

“Everyone get out!” he shouted swaying his arm around. The duke and his company looked at him pretty confused, while Peter just pursed his lips in sheer annoyance. Stiles licked his lips, feeling a rush of embarrassment, but there was no turning back now. “In the name of the Queen I order you to all get out of this room so I can talk to my husband!” he repeated. “Or else I’ll throw all of Your Graces into prison.”

The man stood up, casting a confused glance at the king, but Peter just nodded.

“Give us a few minutes, we were in a need of a small break after all.” he said with a sweet smile, which had nothing pleasing in it. The duke left, eying Stiles a bit suspiciously, but the boy didn’t care. He spoke the moment the door was closed.

“You can’t ignore me forever!” he shouted and Peter put down the letter he was holding to walk around his desk to Stiles.

“You’re right. I can’t.” the king nodded, stopping in front of the boy, looking at him. “If you keep interrupting me and my meetings, I will certainly need to use other methods to keep you away from me. How about cutting off your legs?”

“Again with the threats!” Stiles hissed. “I thought we were over this!”

“Maybe I should cut off your legs _and_ your arms.” Peter mused as if he didn’t hear the boy. Stiles gave a frustrated noise and pushed him to make him listen.

“I didn’t betray you!” he said, grabbing Peter’s vest and shaking him to make him listen; to make him understand. No one understood Stiles, people were thinking that Peter enchanted him, or used him and no one understood. And now, Peter was deaf for his words too and it was something Stiles just couldn’t accept. “I didn’t want to kill you!”

Peter sighed as he raised his glance to meet the boy’s. He slowly reached for his hands to pry them off of his vest.

“But I want to kill you.” he started in a low voice. “Every night we spent together I would wake up and look at you and think… I could kill him. I could kill him so fast and so easy he wouldn’t know what had come to him.” he spoke softly and almost casual and it hurt Stiles more than any shouting he could do.

“Then why didn’t you kill me before?!” he asked and Peter chuckled, as if he had expected that question.

“Maybe I’ve gotten too fond of the squirming, crying little boy under me.” he said almost affectionately. “Maybe I just wanted you to call my name in pleasure and see how you ‘set your sails’.” he smirked and Stiles’ throat went dry. He remembered all those times Scott or Derek asked him if Peter said something to him, as if the man would use him or cast a spell over him, and maybe it was all true. Maybe Peter was just playing with him all this time and the dagger is just an excuse to finally stop this game. He never wanted to keep Stiles next to him, or treat him as a real queen.

“That’s not true.” Stiles tried in a trembling voice, but the next thing he knew was Peter dragging him over his desk and slamming him face down on it, pinning his shoulders. The boy gave a pained groan.

“And you liked it.” Peter smirked against his ear as he forced his thighs open with his knee. “You liked every touch and every kiss of mine. You were so needy for me, you even refused your lovers.”

“Stop this, stop it!” Stiles trashed around but Peter pressed him down the desk strongly and pressed his hips against him. The boy was more scared than on his wedding night, but he tried to overcome the feeling. He needed to show Peter he wasn’t weak, and his threats were going nowhere… Yet, his words were so painful Stiles felt his fighting spirit slowly leaking out of him.

“You went against everyone for me.” Peter continued. “You have nothing. You’re nothing but a royal bed warmer. Do you want me to remind you?” he asked in an amused tone and slid his hand up Stiles’ thigh. The boy gave a yell and tried to push himself up from the desk, but Peter was impossible to move. “Oh, but you would like it, my queen. You always like it.”

“ _Please_ , I just want to talk to you…” Stiles tried once again, closing his eyes tightly and praying Peter will be over with him soon.

“Your mouth isn’t for talking, you know.” the king said. “Looks like I need to remind you of a lot of things tonight.” he added lightly, then stepped back, letting Stiles go. The boy pushed himself up, but his legs felt weak and he had to grab onto the desk to not fall.

“Peter…!” he tried but the king called the guard by the door.

“Escort His Majesty back to his room, he’s not feeling quite well.” Peter ordered and Stiles felt a hand on his elbow. The guard gently, but firmly pulled him out of the study. The queen’s hands were shaking and his steps were wobbly as he was walking down the corridor. He didn’t even look back at Peter, or said anything to him while the guard led him away. He just didn’t have the strength anymore. His body was slowly emerging from the shock; making him fight with nausea and a headache as they arrived to the fortress grounds. The fresh air made Stiles feel a little better so he turned to his guard to send him away.

They suddenly stopped then and the man let him go.

“Run, Your Majesty!” he yelled then and quickly grabbed his sword. Before Stiles could even ask what the hell he was talking about someone pulled a sac over his head.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually longer, but I divided into two chapters for reasons. The other half will be updated next week~
> 
> Also, warning for small and dark places!
> 
> Betaed by Evy~

Stiles woke up to distant voices. He hoped it was just servants and what he thought had happened to him was only a nightmare. But as he moved his head and smelled grass, he had to realize that his dream was indeed reality. They got ambushed on fortress grounds and he got kidnapped. What a brilliant day, he thought as his headache welcomed him with full force too. The queen groaned from pain and tried to open his eyelids. His whole body felt heavy, his ears were ringing and he had no idea where he could be.

“He’s awake.” someone said and it made Stiles freeze. He wasn’t alone. Panic gripped his chest, because he wanted to wake up, wanted to sit up and protect himself from whoever was talking about him, but his body wasn’t moving. He blinked to clear his vision and looked around. The first thing he could see was a fire. The light was soon blocked by a figure leaning over him. Stiles took a sharp breath out of fear, but he couldn’t scramble away.

“You’re one persistent boy, aren’t you, Your Majesty?” he heard a deep voice and Stiles blinked more to see the stranger’s face. It was daytime, but his vision wasn’t exactly clear for some reason.

“Who are you?” he asked and he felt his throat ache. He vaguely remembered screaming his lungs out a few hours before. Just right after they ambushed them, but he didn’t remember falling asleep.

“Excuse my rudeness, they call me Deucalion.” the man smirked and Stiles’ eyes widened. “Oh, so you’ve heard of me? I must admit, I’m humbled.”

“You’re the rebel who was fighting against Peter- the king’s regime till the end.” the queen muttered and his eyes had finally gotten used to the light. The man leaning over him was around Peter’s age and fairly they had similar lines on their faces too. Something only the pain of war could draw on a man’s face. But Deucalion had a cloth over his eyes. Was he blind?

“Oh I’m no rebel, Your Majesty.” the man said, with a half smile. “I’m just not enthusiastic of the new king’s politics.”

“Are you afraid that his pack will be the strongest?” Stiles asked and it made Deucalion laugh a little.

“Is that what he said to you?” he asked almost fondly. “You believe everything he says, don’t you?” Stiles pursed his lips, glaring at the man. “No, Your Majesty, my purpose is something entirely else.” Deucalion continued and reached out to brush his hand against Stiles’ neck, then slipped his hand up to his face. The boy wanted to move away, but he could just squirm. The man’s touch reminded him of Derek’s when he scent marked him back in the day.

“Your father was a great king.” the man said surprisingly softly. “His vision of bringing a new kingdom upon us, with the new gods and the new regime was something everyone wanted.”

“And do you think I believe you?” Stiles hissed. “The new regime has only the new religion in it, with the new gods and it kills and detests everything from the old religion. It means the era of werewolves is over!”

“And then that’s our fate, Your Majesty.” Deucalion nodded and his answer caught Stiles off guard.

“W-what…? Your kind- your kind is hunted in the new regime, you will all die!” he frowned.

“The gods know what they’re doing and there are signs that our days are numbered even without your hunters’ help. In the last seventeen years not a single werewolf has been born and the bitten wolves rarely transform. The ancient magic which is running in our blood is getting weaker.” Deucalion spoke and Stiles gasped. Really. That’s why Scott didn’t turn… it all made too much sense. Deaton was talking about it before too, but Stiles didn’t think it was this serious. “Your king is fighting against the gods and it was probably his goal from the beginning.”

“The Hale Alpha is insane.” Deucalion continued when Stiles could only stare at him. “If he stays on the throne any longer, this country won’t be able to step into the new era and the new gods won’t be merciful. The people can feel it too, Your Majesty. That lingering, tight feeling of fear. There might be peace, but not the kind you wanted.” Stiles swallowed at that. The bare presence of Peter on the throne could bring destruction to their lands… what a joy. And apparently the people were starting to be aware of it too. This is how it feels to wake up from a dream into a nightmare.

“So it’s all about the country, huh.” Stiles said mockingly. “All that fighting, all these… assassination attempts. They are all just to put Peter down and give place to a better king. A king from the new era.”

“You could have been a good king of the new era.” Deucalion said and he might have been blind, but Stiles felt his eyes on him. “I’m sure your father has taught you well and you love the country just as he does. Your passion and strength could have brought this nation to a golden era.”

Somehow, hearing that from a total stranger made Stiles’ chest ache. He really wanted that. He wanted to bring his country a time where there weren’t any wars and people could live safely. Maybe under different circumstances Deucalion would have fought for him, next to him, bringing him to victory and earning the respect of the new gods. Yet, Stiles was here utterly alone, hated by his own king too and probably dying for a lost cause.

“Why the past tense?” he couldn’t help but ask, but he had a feeling why. The nation indeed felt betrayed when he sided with Peter. The people could feel the power of the new gods and going against them could put a bigger fear in their hearts than the fear of werewolves.

“It isn’t just threats and pain that can change a man, Your Majesty, love can do just as much damage.” Deucalion smiled and brushed Stiles’ face one last time before pulling his hand away. He attempted to go and Stiles panicked. He didn’t want to be left there, probably alone.

“Why am I here, what do you plan with me!?” he asked and tried to move his limbs. “And why can’t I move?!”

“I’m not planning anything with you.” Deucalion spoke, turning his head back to him. “And don’t worry, it’s just a spell, it will wear off soon. But not before I find a good place for you.”

Deucalion stood up and a woman was waiting for him to lead him back to the fire. Stiles saw a few more figures sitting around it, but he couldn’t see their faces. Deucalion sat amongst them and they started talking. Stiles whimpered, looking around. He was laying on his side near a cart packed with hay which was probably how they got him out of the fortress. He had little idea how far they could be, probably not that far. He tried to look around more, and see where they really were, but the light really was against him, blinding him. He cursed the gods, old and new, and he cursed Peter the most. Especially when he saw someone walk toward him again.

“I’m sorry Your Majesty, but I have to put you to sleep again.” a woman’s voice told him, and she really sounded apologetic. Stiles shook his head and tried to say how it would be a bad idea, but the next moment he was asleep again.

\--

Stiles wasn’t sure how long he had been out, it could have been hours, but days too. Which really worried him, because he had no idea where he was. That thought jolted him awake and he looked around. The sudden light blinded him for a second and he had to wince at the throbbing behind his forehead. He heard shuffling noises from… above him. Above? Stiles gave a frustrated noise and raised his hand to shield the piercing sunlight and look up. For one thing he could move his limbs, which gave him hope that his situation might not be that awful. He spotted a rope and walls. Tall, brick walls…

“What…?” he gasped, watching the rope disappear above him. “Wait- wait!” he yelled and stumbled to his feet, looking around. The walls were damp and the ground beneath his feet was a bit muddy. He was standing on the bottom of a dried up _well_. “You can’t leave me here!” Stiles shouted up to whoever was out there, but he got no answer. Instead that someone started to put wooden planks over the well, blocking the light.

“No, no stop this! Get me out, I’m sure we can talk about this! Deucalion!” Stiles screamed, grabbing the walls as if they could make this madness stop. “Get me out, let me go! He doesn’t even care for me, you gain nothing from this!” he shouted, jumping a little. “Deucalion!”

All Stiles’ shouting was in vain as the last plank was put in its place, blocking most of the late afternoon or early morning sunlight. He had no idea anymore.

“You can’t do this, I’m the queen!” he shouted, but no one seemed to even listen. Stiles hit the wall in his frustration and continued yelling curses, or called for help. No one seemed to hear him, yet his own ears were ringing from his ragged voice.

“You can’t leave me here!” he shouted and he felt his throat getting sore. Glaring at the planks didn’t help him either so Stiles turned his gaze at the damp walls. The bricks were wet and there didn’t seem to be a good grip in them, but that didn’t mean Stiles couldn’t try. The space was only big enough to take two small steps; it wasn’t made for keeping people inside after all. As Stiles turned around and only saw the walls in the darkness he got unnaturally scared. It seemed like a deep well, his voice probably didn’t even reach the top of it. No one could ever hear him.

“Oh gods…” Stiles gasped, feeling his breathing pick up. He got dizzy and his limbs were trembling. He felt like he will choke to death. There was no one there with him, no one to pat his back or hold his hand as he was suffering through his attack and he had never been any more scared in his life. Not even with Peter. Stiles wiped the tears off his face in an impatient motion at the thought of him.

Stiles leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath and not choke to death. He had things to do, he had to set things right with Scott and his father and maybe with the country, he had to get out of the well. And that thought made him slowly calm down. He collected his strength and tried to climb the wall. When he had little luck with it, he tried screaming at the top of his lungs, he was calling someone, anyone who could be around. Then he tried climbing again.

But no matter how he yelled and screamed, no one came. He felt the coppery taste of blood on his tongue. He shouted so much his throat was bleeding. No matter how he tried to climb the walls, he always lost his grip on the slippery stones. He tried to use the sleeve of his tunic to have a better grip but it didn’t seem to work. It was like the bottom of that well was cutting him off from the world and pulling him deeper into the ground.

\--

At the news of the queen’s kidnapping, Peter was utterly confused. He rarely got confused, but this time he was. It just didn’t make sense. Why would they _kidnap_ Stiles? Killing him would have sent a better message to him and to the country, yet these rebels chose to kidnap him. The king was even thinking about leaving it as that, because Stiles had no use for him anymore, he didn’t even trust him anymore. Of course he sent a search party out and a declaration to every big town and castle that the queen is missing and he offered rewards. But he wasn’t planning on putting any more effort into it. There was just no point. If anything, the kidnappers just took away the chance of finishing Stiles off personally from him.

There was never a letter for ransom. There were three guards killed as the kidnappers escaped. Rushing to the scene Peter even recognized a familiar scent, but nothing else. After that he gave the orders for the search party and offered a price for Stiles and planned to leave it as that.

That evening as he was returning to his room for the rest of the night he passed the entrance of the library. Peter wasn’t a fan of libraries, he only hit the books when it was really necessary. Not like Stiles, who would rather spend hours and days in the library reading books than anything else. It was admirable in a way. Peter wondered why the hell he’s thinking about Stiles again and opened the door to look inside. He knew Stiles won’t be there, yet some kind of disappointment still settled under his ribs.

Peter caught himself listening and smelling into the air to catch his wife’s lingering scent and he did. It was all over the place, just like the boy himself would be. Always going somewhere, always talking about something; moving, talking, being too overwhelming. The wolf looked around, seeing the empty library, then turned to leave. His way wasn’t leading to his room, but to Stiles’.

Opening the door of the queen’s chambers, Peter got engulfed in his scent again. He was using that room only for a few days since the assassination attempt, but he was already filling it with his smell. However, the boy wasn’t there. He was missing. He’d gotten kidnapped. He might be already dead.

A growl snapped Peter out of his thoughts. He looked around searching for its source just to find that it was himself. The thought of Stiles dying made him so irrationally angry that he was growling. Yes, yes he was angry. He felt it. Felt the all so familiar bubbling emotion starting from his gut which crawled its way up to his lungs, making his limbs tremble.

Fury was something he could focus on. Anger was his friend. It gave him power.

Before Peter could stop himself he let out the roar that was running up his throat. It shook the whole fortress and he hoped the one responsible for his wife’s kidnapping could hear it loud and clear too.

Peter didn’t hesitate to get a horse and supplies for a few days. He knew no one will do as well as finding Stiles than him. He considered that it might even be a trap to lure him out. But then why they erased their scent? It didn’t make sense, nothing made sense anymore.

“Where are you going?!” he heard Derek arrive as he tightened the saddle on his horse. Just in time, the king thought.

“To the old capital.” Peter lied. “I’m going to spend some time there.” he said, looking at Derek.

“In the middle of the night?” the other started, then rubbed the last drop of sleepiness out of his eyes. “You’re out to find Stiles, aren’t you?”

“Derek.” Peter snorted, looking at his nephew with a pitying smile. “I already sent out my men to search for him. Why would I waste my time with something stupid like that?”

“You became too interested in him.” Derek said, spreading his arms and the king sighed. He turned his head, glaring at the other man. He decided not to dwell on that issue, because Derek was attacking him for a different reason altogether.

“But that comes awfully handy to you, doesn’t it?” he started and he spotted the slight fear in Derek’s eyes. “You can use him to stab me, you can use his absence to throw me over, oh Derek.” The king sighed, shaking his head. “You were waiting for this opportunity since I obtained the throne.”

“I have nothing to do with this.” the man stomped, fisting his hands in anger. At least he didn’t deny the other incident.

“No indeed, this is far more brilliant than you.” Peter nodded and got on his horse.

“Peter!” Derek called him and grabbed the reins to make the man listen to him. “This is a warning, can’t you see?! We have no right to the throne; we should be happy we’re still alive and the new gods were practicing mercy on us.”

“I didn’t know you were so into religion.” the king mocked and attempted to pull his horse free.

“I am when I can feel the rage of the new gods!” Derek shouted, his eyes were intense on Peter. “They won’t be merciful to the kingdom, if you keep this up!” he said and heard Peter’s laugh.

“See you at the old capital.” the king greeted him and pulled up the reins to finally be on his way. He turned his horse around and kicked her into a dash.

\--

Stiles never had to starve in his life. He always had water to drink when he was thirsty. He was always dressed nicely. He was never cold in the winter and never too hot in the summer. He complained about swordfight practice and sometimes about riding lessons, but he never had to do any psychical work in his life. Scott sometimes teased him about it when they were running around in the huge gardens and Stiles once again fell from one of the trees. He was always awful at climbing trees.

The irony was that the queen was sure he will die from thirst soon. He licked his lips for the thousandth time to try and wet them, but it did nothing. The walls were humid around him, but there was not enough water for a lick. Stiles even laughed out loud when he realized he is thirsty at the bottom of a well. He had no idea how long he was there already, but he felt like it was ages. He could tell night had already fallen; the sunlight wasn’t breaking through the splits between the planks anymore.

Stiles leaned his head against the cold stones, still staring up as he wondered if Peter would come. Then he had to laugh, because why would he come. It was a stupid idea. They never had anything going on and the king wasn’t about to bring peace. Stiles got lied to numerous times… Peter could never bring peace, because he was one of the beasts of the old religion. The new gods wouldn’t tolerate someone like that on the throne for long. His bare presence was betraying everything Stiles believed in.

The boy sighed annoyed and rubbed his face. He didn’t want to think about Peter. He didn’t want to think about anyone, because he burned all the bridges. He stood by Peter and he pushed everyone, including Scott, away in hope to create something big and meaningful. Just so he could end up in a well. It wasn’t worth it.

The night turned into day again and Stiles’ head was throbbing and slight dizziness hit him. He vaguely thought about how he deserves this and yet, he couldn’t stop trying to climb out. He tried shouting, but he felt weak and his voice came out ragged and powerless from his sore throat. If no one heard him when he could scream at the top of his lungs, then how could anyone hear him now? But he didn’t stop. Not until he tried climbing once again and fell. Stiles gave a pained groan when his back hit the stone walls as he slumped down to the ground.

“Crap…” he breathed when he realized he had no strength to stand up. He cast a glance up in a last hope to find someone there but he had to be disappointed. Stiles sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe after a little rest he would be able to think of something.

\--

The worst thing was that whoever had kidnapped Stiles somehow could hide his scent too. Peter grudgingly thought about how that someone must have known he was a werewolf and maybe that was one of the reasons they picked Stiles and not go head on against him. It was frustrating and something Peter hadn’t experienced before. This kind of helplessness was not like him. He ran his horse all night and picked up another one the next day so he wouldn’t lose speed. He was searching for a scent or tracks or anything suspicious and it seemed like it was in vain. Until a blacksmith mentioned this party traveling through the town with a blind man on a cart packed with hay.

Peter decided to follow the tracks of a cart and not the scent of Stiles. He kept on the road for a while, trying to see If they left it or not. He hadn’t found anything until it had gotten dark again and, fairly, he was losing patience. Stiles was missing for almost two days now and the situation didn’t seem too good. Of course Peter thought to himself that he was doing this in vain, maybe they killed the boy and buried him so deep no one would ever find him just to make Peter snap. The worst was that Peter indeed felt like snapping. He realized why they had kidnapped Stiles without any trace, to make him go crazy over his absence, and it was _working_. Peter growled again and his horse jumped in fear.

The land of the country was scorched up, partly by Peter’s own troops when he was fighting to get the throne. The thing was… the land didn’t seem like it was getting back it’s old charm anytime soon and the king knew why. The gods didn’t let it. They had a long, dry summer behind them and the autumn wasn’t bringing anything promising either. The land was dying and the people could feel it. The new gods were starting to show how utterly cruel they really are. But Peter couldn’t help feel satisfaction over it, because _this was exactly what he wanted_.

The king was searching through the second night too. All he found was the point where they abandoned the cart and continued their way probably on horses. The tracks were difficult to follow, but Peter tried his best to trail the scent of hay and he didn’t have to be disappointed. It lead him to a burned down house, much similar to the home he grew up in and was burned in… He jumped off his horse and hurried over to the remains of the house. It was dark and cold, the night was nearing its end and Peter wondered where Stiles had to spend the last two nights. It was already autumn and the winds started to get colder. Peter took a deep breath to smell the air but there was nothing, only the burned wood’s scent. It made him slightly nauseous so he quickly searched through the house but he found nothing.

Stiles wasn’t in the house and the tracks continued away from it. Peter growled again in frustration as he was walking back to his horse, passing a well. It was probably all dried up he wondered. Though as he walked past it something caught his attention. He didn’t know what exactly, all he knew was that something wasn’t right with it. Since he was desperate for clues he stepped to the well and patted the planks covering it. Then he realized. It didn’t have a scent; it didn’t have that old, peculiar smell that wells and old wooden planks usually had. It was enchanted.

With a curse Peter quickly pushed off the planks and looked inside. It was really dark and a human probably wouldn’t have seen to the bottom of that pit, but Peter could. He saw someone down there, sitting down, resting against the wall.

“Stiles!” he called, but the boy didn’t move or answer. “Stiles!” Peter tried again and looked around for rope, but of course there wasn’t any nearby. He decided to check the house for it once again.

\--

It was cold and damp, and Stiles wanted to fall asleep. But he couldn’t. Instead he was floating in this awful state where he was half asleep and half awake. He felt every bit of the cold around him, no matter how his body was trying to fight against it by shivering. After a while, he didn’t even tremble, he didn’t have the strength. His head hurt and it hurt to breathe. Sometimes he thought he heard something or someone, but whenever he looked up, he had to realize it was just his imagination. This time too, he thought he will find himself back in the darkness again, so he refused to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see those planks again.

The next thing he knew was that someone yanked him by his shoulders. Stiles whimpered, because it wasn’t exactly gentle and suddenly he felt slight nausea. He heard someone say something, but he couldn’t understand what, because he’d finally gotten pulled into unconsciousness.

\--

Peter figured it won’t be easy, taking an unconscious boy out of that god forsaken well, but he tried his best. Thankfully, he found some rope he could use in his little rescue mission. As he laid Stiles down in the grass he noticed that his hands were trembling. It was strange, because he felt nothing; no fear, no anger, not even relief… but there must have been something his body remembered, because he couldn’t stop trembling. Stiles was breathing weakly, and his heart was beating a lazy rhythm and it was all so surreal. To get himself together Peter hurried to his horse to get his water flask to bring it back to the boy.

The king gently slipped one of his hands under Stiles’ head to tilt it up a little and made him drink. For a second he though it will be in vain, but then ever so slowly Stiles regained consciousness. When he seemed to realize he could drink, he grabbed Peter’s hand to keep the flask by his lips.

“Not so fast.” Peter started and pulled the flask away, ignoring Stiles’ whimper. “You’ll get sick if you drink too fast.” he said.

Stiles swallowed and licked his lips, apparently coming to his senses. His eyes were unfocused as he was looking up into Peter’s face, not recognizing him for a second.

“Peter?” he asked blinking as he attempted to sit up. The man helped him, keeping his hand on his back. Stiles looked around to see where they were and to check what exactly happened. He spotted the well not far from them and his breath hitched. His whole body started to shiver from cold and from fear again.

“You can’t be too sick if you can still cry.” he heard Peter’s silky voice as he brushed the back of his fingers against his cheek, wiping some of his tears. Stiles looked back at Peter with eyes wide and lips parted. His ears were still ringing and his headache threatened to blow his head off. But more than anything, he was confused.

“Peter?” he asked again in a weak, raspy voice. “Wh…” he coughed a little and looked around again, wiping his face.

“Can you walk?” the king asked and offered the flask again. Stiles took it and tried to gulp most of it down, but Peter took it away again too soon.

Stiles didn’t answer just tried to get on his feet. He was too confused for words; he needed a little time to collect himself. He could stand but he immediately got dizzy and the next thing he knew was Peter’s arms were around him again, helping him to sit down.

“A simple no would have been just as good.” Peter sighed, as he was kneeling down, holding Stiles against his chest. He was so warm and the boy felt a rush of safety as he stroked his back reassuringly. But it all was just a lie. He was just so tired of it. He was tired of Peter’s pretense and his tricks and everything that was him and yet his heart was fluttering in his chest like a small little bird at his touches.

“I’m so tired…” Stiles said in a hoarse voice and attempted to push himself away from Peter. He needed to be in his right mind for this. “I’m so tired of you.” he sniffed and forced himself to swallow back a sob.

“What are you saying?” Peter asked in a hushing tone, reaching out to cup Stiles’ cheek. His touch was so soft and his fingers were trembling, but Stiles thought he was just imagining it.

“Ever since… the very beginning you were lying to me.” the boy started and slapped Peter’s hand away weakly. “You said… you wanted peace and you never said the truth. There will never be peace as long as you’re king.” Stiles said with tears rolling down his messy cheeks.

“Is this really the time?” Peter asked quietly, but didn’t try to touch Stiles again.

The boy sniffed, still trying to control himself so he could talk.

“I married you… to bring peace to my country. I did it all for them.” he wept. “I was ready to do anything; I was ready to hold your hand and to protect you against everyone.” he continued with trembling lips and hoarse voice. “I swore loyalty when no one else did. I did it all so I could make my father proud, so I could bring peace after years of war and you…” he finally looked up at Peter with eyes full of tears and regret. “You were laughing at me all this time.”

Peter pursed his lips as he was staring back at Stiles and the boy discovered a hint of fear.

“I wanted to kill you, and then others asked me to kill you, more than once.” Stiles said hitting the ground with his fist. “But I didn’t because I thought murder wouldn’t solve anything.” he said then looked at Peter again. “You took _everything_ from me. You took my kingdom, my title, my whole future!” he rasped. “You took my trust and you took something else I’ll never be able to get back.”

“You did all these horrible things without a second thought… and I could still…” Stiles couldn’t control his sobbing anymore. “I’m still…”

If Peter had a heart it would break as he was listening to Stiles. He couldn’t help thinking that this kidnapping plot was indeed delicately made. It threw Peter into rush actions, it finally opened Stiles’ eyes and it might shatter everything they’d built together. For the first time in his life, Peter didn’t want that. He didn’t want to lose his queen from his life. He slowly reached out to put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder; he was afraid the boy will push him away again. But Stiles was too tired to do that anymore. So the king slowly put his arms around him and pulled him into a gentle hug.

“I love you.” Stiles sobbed into his shoulder and Peter stopped trembling. He knew that. He knew it from the first moment Stiles was in love with him. But words were different. Words were absolute and fatal and awful. They left an impact, just like now. His fingers slid into Stiles’ hair petting it a little before he spoke.

“Likewise.” he whispered so quietly he wasn’t even sure he really said it. But apparently that was enough for Stiles to slowly start to calm down in his arms. He seemed so small and so fragile in that moment, but Peter knew better. He knew who is more fragile between them and it wasn’t Stiles. The fact that he could still cry proved that. Stiles still had all these emotions inside his heart, he could still miss someone, he could still cry for someone and he was able to love despite that someone was the biggest scum of the kingdom.

Stiles was still whole, despite everything that happened and maybe that’s why Peter had gotten attracted somewhere along the way. Because he wasn’t whole, not since the fire. He wasn’t able to love or feel much besides anger anymore and yet, being with Stiles he felt the ghosts of these feelings. He felt concern, most of all and the world seemed just a little brighter whenever Stiles was in the room. Touching him wasn’t making Peter sick to the stomach and he constantly wanted his scent on him. Peter knew this was the most he will be able to do for Stiles and he also knew that the boy one day will leave him because of this.

Love wasn’t eternal.

After Stiles got a little better, Peter helped him up on his horse and sat behind him. It was calming to feel the boy so near, because he had the scent of mud and other wolves and Peter wanted to make sure Stiles smells of him again soon. They were riding back on the old road Peter had followed, without meeting anyone along the way. The morning caught up with them on the way, showing how beautiful the autumn sunrise is in the Hale Kingdom.

“We have a lot to talk about.” Stiles whispered as he leaned back to steal a little of Peter’s warmth. The man put an arm around his middle to keep him closer to his body.

“You and your talks.” the king sighed, pressing his nose behind Stiles’ ear.

“The dagger…” the queen started, but Peter shook his head.

“I know.” he said. He didn’t want to talk about that god forsaken dagger of all things. The queen sighed a little, but didn’t press the matter more.

“And you knew… about the gods.” Stiles started and Peter closed his eyes for a moment. Now he would rather talk about the dagger.

“I didn’t know it from the start, of course.” he spoke. “I just wanted to reach the king and end his life for what he did with my family. And then one of the priests of the new religion told me if I keep this up the new gods won’t be merciful. I learned how our kind was sentenced to a certain doom and I became even angrier. No god would tell me what to do.” he growled, squeezing the reins, but just for a second. He collected himself soon enough.

“Now… I like to think of myself as the last battle the kingdom has to fight.” Peter smirked. “I knew you will be a strong opponent, everyone was saying how the Stilinski Prince will bring us to the new era. They had faith in you.”

“That’s why you married me?” the queen asked quietly with a shivering breath.

“I could become king and destroy the last ray of hope, Stiles, it was the best plan I could come up with.” Peter answered. “But I didn’t plan it to end up like this.”

“Me neither.” Stiles swallowed, wiping his face again.

“But I won’t back out.” the king said. “I’ll stay king as long as I can.”

“It won’t be much longer.” Stiles whispered, and turned his head to look at Peter’s face. “You came for me, you’re not in the fortress anymore… If they want to do something, they will now.”

“I can take them on.” Peter said lightly.

“They won’t stop until you’re dead.” Stiles insisted and the king smiled.

“Tell me something I don’t know, my queen.” he cocked his head to the side, looking at the boy. Stiles wasn’t smiling, just eyed him a bit tired and almost sad. But it wasn’t pity. Even Stiles knew better than to pity Peter. The king just softened his smirk and leaned closer to steal a kiss from his wife. Stiles met him halfway and they shared a small, affectionate kiss.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter...? It was part of the previous chapter, but I divided them into two for reasons.
> 
> Warning for knotting...?
> 
> Betaed by Evy!

 

As Peter lead him inside the inn, Stiles wondered if he wasn’t still dreaming. He wasn’t feeling too well, despite drinking most of their water. He was cold and he was confused, but the presence of Peter was so calming and warm that it made him feel like being in a dream. They shared kisses and Peter handled him like he was the most fragile china in the kingdom and Stiles tried not to melt every time, but he did.

The inn smelled of cheap beer and a kind of smoke that wasn’t familiar to Stiles. The people sitting at the tables, nursing their drinks and soups, were listening to a bard sitting by the fireplace. He was singing about how the ancient gods decided to create autumn. It was a short and pretty tale and Stiles had only read it in a children’s book before. It was so strange to listen to it in a song. It wasn’t a royal song, or something they would play to the king or the princes, thus the queen could never hear it in person. He looked around, seeing how grown men and women were listening to a silly little tale about the first tree that went to sleep and the young gods turning her leaves red and yellow for fun.

Stiles listened to the rest of the tale as Peter asked for a room and some food. It was beautiful. The bard wasn’t playing on a harp but a lute and yet his music was light and had a kind of bittersweet melody to it that only the fall could give to a person.

“Eat up, then let’s go and rest.” Stiles heard Peter’s voice suddenly and he already led him to a nearby table, placing a bowl of soup in front of him. It wasn’t anything like the food Stiles was eating before, but in that moment it was heavenly. Though no matter how hungry and weak he felt, his curiosity was more nagging. He couldn’t help looking up at the bard, or at the people around them. His people. The people of the country. They weren’t even aware that their king and queen were sitting by their tables. And it was good like that, Stiles didn’t feel too royal right now anyway.

“If I wouldn’t be a… what I am now,” the queen started, absently. “I’d be a bard.” he decided and heard Peter snort as he gulped some of his soup down.

“Really now?” he asked, turning his head toward Stiles. “A bard?”

“And I’d be good at it!” the boy almost pouted. “Reading the old tales, searching for new ones… I could do that. I’d like to do that.”

“Playing the lute.” Peter commented, still too amused for Stiles’ taste.

“Well… I guess I could use a little practice in that.” The queen shrugged with a half smile. Somehow their banter was making his chest warm and everything a little bit better. Even if nothing was better. Stiles took a breath and looked at Peter again, parting his lips to say something.

“No.” Peter said, leaning back in his chair.

“I didn’t even say anything.” Stiles frowned.

“I still know what you are going to ask.” the man shrugged, looking around. “And no, Stiles, I have no dreams of becoming someone else. I never wanted to be someone else.”

“But… so that means you don’t have dreams?”

“No dreams like that.” Peter closed the conversation. “Eat your soup, Stiles. You still need a lot of rest before we go on.”

The queen sighed and let it go. Then demanded a hot bath before he hit the bed, causing another frustrated conversation. But to their luck the inn offered hot baths and Peter was carrying enough money so they could both wash the dirt of the road off. Stiles didn’t feel that cold and dirty anymore after it and he happily walked back to their room, warning Peter to not stay behind too long either.

The moment Stiles was back in their room and laid his head down on their bed, he fell asleep. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but when he woke up it was deep into the night. The moon was still up, casting a blue glow over the simple room. Stiles reached out with his hand to search for Peter, but he wasn’t on the bed. The boy groaned a bit scared and opened his eyes to look around the room for him. Peter was standing by the window, looking pensive. His gaze was directed outside and still not on the sky, but below them to the street. Stiles always warned him to look up at the sky at night, but apparently he still had to warn him a lot more.

The queen blinked a few times to get the sleepiness out of his eyes and collected the covers around him to get out of bed. He didn’t want to put his dirty clothes back on after cleaning, so he went to sleep naked. He walked up to Peter to see what he was looking at, but there was no one on the streets.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked, raising his gaze at Stiles. The boy shrugged.

“Better, I guess.” he said, eying the other. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, seeing Peter’s almost disgusted expression.

“You still reek of them.” the king said and stepped closer, pressing his nose against Stiles’ neck.

“But I washed…” Stiles frowned and shivered at the sudden touch.

“That doesn’t matter.” Peter said and slid his arms around the boy and Stiles felt a sudden rush of warmth. “I’ll claim you back.” Peter murmured into his neck before kissing it and Stiles jumped. Without thinking, he let go of his covers and pulled Peter closer to him, tilting his head to finally kiss him.

Kissing Peter felt nothing like when they kissed before. This time it was something deeper, something more passionate and Stiles wasn’t afraid anymore. He reached out to slide his fingers into Peter’s hair, massaging his scalp as he was sucking on his tongue. He wanted to have more of Peter’s taste and his touch and everything of his. Stiles wanted him to claim him back. Before he knew it, his back hit the wall and Peter’s hand stroked his sides, slowly sneaking up to his chest to pinch one of his nipples. Stiles gasped out and arched his back at the sensation.

“You can feel it too…” Peter whispered with eyes half closed as he was looking down at the boy. Stiles had no idea what he was talking about, but he knew he was indeed feeling something.  Something deep and arousing, what made his body sensitive and filled his mind with raw need. Instead of asking what Peter meant, he leaned in to continue their kissing. Words weren’t something he would tolerate right now.

The covers fell by their feet and Stiles winced as his naked back hit the cold stonewalls. But then Peter scooped him up from the ground, and pressed their hips together. Stiles cursed as he quickly put his arms around Peter’s shoulders and his legs around his hips. It was the first time he was getting hard this fast and he wondered if this is what Peter was talking about. He whispered Peter’s name which turned into a moan when the man reached between them and squeezed his hard erection. Stiles moaned loudly from need and tried to move his hips to make Peter go on and he didn’t have to be disappointed.

Peter pressed him roughly against the wall, working on his hardness so eagerly and firmly that Stiles thought he will lose his mind. He was clinging to Peter, fisting his hand in his tunic and couldn’t exactly manage to say anything other than the man’s name by that point. It was fast and raw and still not enough and he let out a sob when he was coming. It wasn’t as satisfying as he expected. Peter worked him through it, kissing him just as hungry as Stiles felt.

Stiles was glad that Peter was still holding him, because his legs trembled so much from need he wasn’t sure he could walk.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?!” He practically whined, yanking on Peter’s shirt. The man licked his lips and turned them around to cross the distance to the bed. He practically threw Stiles down on the bed and pulled off his shirt. But Peter’s skin had no time to cool in the chilly autumn night, because Stiles’ hands were already on his chest and his lips explored his collarbone.

“Stiles…” Peter let out a shaky breath and covered the boy’s nape with one hand. His fingers were trembling and he was warmer than usual. Stiles knew something was up and it had something to do with this desire. He wanted to ask, but then Peter started to untie his trousers and Stiles felt the need to help him out of them.

“Big…” he commented when he looked at Peter without his clothes.

“Such a compliment.” Peter smirked and leaned down, cupping the boy’s cheeks to pull him into a kiss. Stiles was kissing back but then pulled the man down on the bed and rolled them over. Now that Peter was letting him touch him, he wanted to have a feast. He laid open mouthed kisses on his neck and made his way down his chest. Peter’s skin was delicious and sweet and Stiles let out a shaky groan when he felt his need again. He straddled the man’s thigh so he could arch against his hips, feeling himself getting hard again. He heard Peter _moan_ his name and it was the most delicious sound he had ever heard.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Stiles dropped his hand down and grabbed onto Peter’s erection, making the man jump. Apparently, he’d gotten breathless from that one touch and Stiles smirked into his skin. He felt really naughty tonight and Peter wasn’t stopping him, so he gave a few experimental strokes. The king’s reaction was priceless as he was practically squirming under his touch.

“Oh god…” Stiles whimpered and kissed a trail down toward Peter’s sweet spot until he reached it. His mouth watered at the sight and Stiles almost felt embarrassed for being this turned on by the fact that he can lick it. He didn’t hesitate either, he opened his mouth and gave it a hard, long lick. Then he slipped it past his lips to suck on the tip.

Peter cursed and grabbed his hair and it hurt, but Stiles didn’t want to stop. Judging by the king’s ragged breathing he wasn’t about to stop him either. The boy took him as deep as he could, sucking and lapping at him and even enjoying his taste. He was bobbing his head a little, then popped Peter out of his mouth with an obscene, wet noise. When Stiles emerged, Peter pulled his head back to him for a deep kiss, as if wanting to taste himself on the boy’s tongue and help to make those lips more swollen.

“What’s happening?” Stiles could finally ask as he was arching against Peter again, not really knowing what he was doing.

“My heat.” Peter answered and rolled them over, brushing their cocks together. He was sweating and a new kind of blush adored his cheeks. Stiles felt speechless as he was watching the king, because he was looking almost vulnerable.

“Your heat..? What does it mean? I mean… besides that I really, really want to shag you.” Stiles whimpered, rocking his hips up into the man’s.

“It basically means that yes.” Peter nodded, leaning his forehead against the boy’s collarbone. “It means I’m ready for a mate.”

“A mate?” Stiles asked, placing his hands on Peter’s head. Then the man moved a bit away to look into his face. His eyes were red, but his expression was the most open Stiles had ever seen him with.

“Do you want to belong to me?” he asked out of breath. “Stiles, do you want to belong to me?” he repeated, leaning closer so their noses were almost touching. The queen shivered, because he could feel this was a serious question.

“Don’t I already?” he whispered and Peter answered him with a kiss, before pulling away. He reached to his dropped clothes for the small sack he had tied on his belt and searched around in it for a small jar.

“Ah…” Stiles blinked at it and watched as Peter opened it. “Where did you get that?” he asked frowning.

“It’s not just food and drink you can purchase from an innkeeper.” Peter said with a cocky smirk as he warmed up the lube between his fingers.

“You knew this will happen?!” Stiles gasped, pushing himself up on his elbows. Peter crawled over him again and nudged apart his legs, kneeling between them.

“I knew this from the moment I got back from the battle. I wanted to make you my mate from then on.” he said and teased Stiles’ entrance with one slick finger. “But I hesitated. Now I won’t.” he whispered and pushed in a shaking finger.

Stiles let out a sigh and tried to relax. Peter was bigger than before and he didn’t want to get hurt, not tonight. He tilted his head to look at the king again, just in time to see him lean down and place a kiss in the middle of his chest. It was such a gentle kiss, Stiles couldn’t help his shiver. But then Peter smirked into his skin and moved his mouth over his nipple and Stiles shivered from something entirely else. His breath got caught in his throat under his husband’s treatment and he barely noticed the second finger. Peter was so good with his tongue and his lips and Stiles wished he would kiss him more on other places.

Peter stretched him while his tongue was greeting all the moles on Stiles’ chest and abdomen. Then he moved and met him with a kiss. Stiles felt his lips get swollen from the amount of kisses they exchanged, but he didn’t mind. Peter kissed him long and exhausting and Stiles loved every second of it, his body was screaming for more, but apparently the man was taking his time. Until he added a third finger.

Stiles winced and gasped from pain.

“Relax.” Peter whispered to his lips, working him still, getting him nice and stretched. “Relax.” he repeated and nuzzled his wife’s cheek, his free hand was kneading on one of his thighs.

“Alright.” Stiles breathed, holding onto Peter’s shoulders and tried to relax. He tried to concentrate on Peter’s scent and his warmth; on how his kisses tasted, how he felt under his fingers, how he sometimes let out those small noises of pleasure.

“Stiles.” Peter called him in a warm voice and the boy felt the butterflies in his stomach. He licked his lips and opened his eyes, not really realizing he had closed them. The king looked at him with half lidded eyes, and he was ready. Stiles swallowed and he wondered if he was ready, but he still nodded. Peter kissed him once again before he retrieved his fingers and positioned himself between his legs, stroking at his thighs in anticipation. His fingers shivered from time to time, probably because of need. Stiles sighed softly and attempted to spread his legs more for him.

And Peter waited. Stiles groaned, arching his back, and his breath hitched when the king teased his entrance with the head of his cock. He wanted to tell Peter to stop teasing, but instead just another groan left his throat. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait too long, because Peter pressed and he was inside with one smooth thrust.

Grabbing on the sheets, all of the air escaped from Stiles’ lungs. He was relaxed, but not enough. He threw his head back, baring his teeth at the invasion, but he didn’t ask Peter to stop. He was big; bigger than before. Stiles gasped, and tried to catch his breath when he felt Peter’s balls at his rim. He was trembling from pain and pleasure, because the man was brushing over that sweet-sweet spot too and Stiles’ body and mind was trying to adjust.

“Oh god… oh god…” the queen moaned, throwing his head to the side when Peter ever so slowly pulled back.

“Don’t call the gods.” Peter hissed, sounding just as in pain as Stiles felt. The boy tilted his head, looking at him in a daze then held out his arms for him.

“Peter…” he breathed, and his husband responded by leaning down, penetrating him in yet another way. Stiles opened his mouth to welcome Peter’s tongue and he arched up to feel more of his skin with all his body. As if he wanted to feel more of him, and he did want to feel more of him. Peter’s hand was sneaking up on his body, stroking his thigh and warming up his sides.

Peter’s movements were still tainted with that deep, roaring power he carried in himself, but Stiles didn’t feel threatened by it. He almost felt safe, even when Peter rolled his hips and thrust into him deeper than before. He was slow and it killed them both. Stiles squirmed under the treatment, throwing his head back once again to try and keep his sanity and a hand sneaked up on his throat. Peter’s skin was hot and still as soft as he remembered and the strength inside his muscles hinted how he could crush the boy’s neck with just his fingers. Stiles had no idea why, but it made him shiver all over and he threw his legs more around the man’s hips. He was getting aroused again and he wondered if humans can go into heat too near werewolves. But it was alright as long as he could keep up with Peter.

A finger teased his lips and Stiles opened his mouth to lick at it. He heard Peter’s breath hitch, so he lapped at the finger a bit more before inviting it inside his mouth. But he couldn’t suck on it as much as he wanted, because Peter was getting impatient. He leaned back, and put his hands under Stiles’ knees, holding them spread as he picked up his pace, pounding inside the boy.

Stiles’ toes curled at the sensation, because every thrust of the man sent pain and pleasure through his body, right into his cock and he’d gotten rock hard again. He bit his lips and looked up at Peter thrusting into him; sweat adorned his forehead and chest and he was just as flushed as Stiles, complimenting the small freckles all over his skin. His eyes were so blue and so sparkling as he was watching him and Stiles almost lost himself when Peter licked his own lips.

“Touch yourself.” the king said and his voice had more volume than Stiles remembered. As if he was half growling and it made the boy shiver again.

“You like that?” he asked with a breathless smirk and slid his hand down his own chest and stomach until he reached his hardness. Peter’s only answer was a pleased smirk and for a moment he lost his rhythm as Stiles finally took himself in his hand. Oh yes, he really liked that. Peter’s eyes flashed red and Stiles moaned. He was close and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to come yet.

“Go on, do it. Come.” Peter breathed, tightening his grip on Stiles’ legs and his movements became rougher as he was watching the boy please himself. At the king’s orders Stiles reached down with his other hand too to squeeze his own balls as he was working on his hardness too eagerly. He felt like if he won’t come soon he will go crazy. Peter’s wild pounding and his own hands rushed him into a release that felt only a bit more satisfying than his first one.

“Peter- Peter..!” Stiles whimpered, as if trying to say something more, but his release took his breath away; his whole body tensed and a dry sob left his throat as he was coming hard all over himself. At the same time he felt Peter double over, slipping his palms over his thighs and grabbing onto his hips with trembling hands. The man was just as out of breath as Stiles, and he growled deep in his chest as he came inside the boy with wild, jerky movements. Stiles tilted his head and tried to lean up to kiss him all exhausted, but as he did that he felt Peter’s hardness still inside him.

All Stiles wanted to do is collapse and sleep until eternity, possibly tucked under Peter’s arm, but the low growl coming from the man signed it won’t happen soon. Peter leaned down and licked some of his come from his stomach, making Stiles moan from how his skin was too sensitive.

“You’re not… you’re not done.” Stiles commented breathless as he reached for Peter again. The man lifted his head, and looked at Stiles with eyes flaring red and licking some of his cum from the corner of his mouth.

“No.” he rumbled in a deep voice and leaned over to kiss Stiles. The boy gave a breathless sound as he tasted himself on Peter’s tongue and his body twitched. Then Peter nuzzled his cheek, and raised his head to kiss his forehead. He kept his lips there, caressing the boy’s sweaty skin a little. Stiles took the chance to put his arms around his torso and pull him into a hug for a few seconds.

Stiles was almost ready to really fall asleep, but Peter pulled away and slipped out of him. The sudden cold on the boy’s skin made him hiss. He wanted to demand that Peter would drag his sorry ass back to his personal space or else… But the man only pulled away to turn him on his stomach.

“No, no I want to see you…” Stiles almost whined, and attempted to roll back, but Peter kept him like that, by covering his back and pressing his hardness against his ass.

“This will be more comfortable.” he said, still on his growling voice as he nuzzled behind Stiles’ ear. “Oh god, Stiles you already smell so good…” Peter breathed and the boy felt his hardness twitch as he said that. Peter dropped his head to kiss and lick at Stiles’ nape and shoulders and he gently scraped over his skin with his teeth too.

The boy fisted a hand in the pillow, closing his eyes. Then Peter slipped his hand between his cheeks and buried two fingers inside him and Stiles knew why. He wanted to feel him stretched and already filled with his cum, apparently Peter liked that. Peter fucked him with his fingers a little, before he brought his hard flesh into play again. Stiles pulled up one of his knees to give him space, but still grunted at the invasion of Peter. It was like he was getting bigger the more they were doing this.

“Good…” Peter whispered against his temple, and Stiles had a feeling it was mostly to himself. He was in a daze, so only listening to Peter’s voices and sounds was a great pleasure. A smile crept on his face even when the man was seeking out his hand and squeezed it. Peter’s other hand was on his waist, holding him so tightly that Stiles was sure it will bruise.

“Wh…” Stiles frowned then, squirming a little when Peter started to thrust into him again. “Peter…” he tried again, but only got a growl. “Peter, you’re- are you getting bigger? Even more bigger?” he asked, trying to look over his shoulder.

“Yes.” The man answered out of breath, also seemingly in pain. Stiles wanted to ask more, but the sudden stretching knocked out all his air. Only a pained groan could break free from his dry throat. “It’s alright, Stiles, you can do this.”

“No, no I can’t, take it out…!” the boy struggled, but it just made it worse for both of them. Peter slid his arm around his stomach and pulled him tight to himself to stop him.

“I can’t!” he hissed just as pained. “Stiles…” he started then, licking his lips. “You can do this, you’re incredible…”

“Oh, you and your sweet words!” Stiles sobbed, squeezing Peter’s fingers so tight his knuckles went white. He didn’t want to cry, but his eyes were still full of tears from the pain.

“Tell me when you’re ready.” Peter spoke in a ragged voice as he showered Stiles’ shoulders and neck with open mouthed kisses. He almost acted like as if he tasted him before wanting to take a bite and a rush of fear ran through Stiles. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Peter said and Stiles wondered if ‘hurting’ meant the same thing for both of them. Instead he just swallowed and nodded.

“Alright.” He nodded and leaned his forehead down the bed. “G-go on.” He stuttered, biting his lip and the moment the words left his mouth Peter thrust deep inside him making him cry out again. One of his hands was holding Peter’s fingers, while the other was fisted in the pillow. Stiles really thought he will die then and there on Peter’s cock.

The shivers of Peter’s hands and the jolts of his body showed he was just as in pain adjusting as Stiles. His breath was ragged and uneven and the small groans were making Stiles go crazy. But thankfully, by some miracle, he could adjust, pain was still lingering around, but Stiles felt a jolt of pleasure every time Peter moved. How was that possible?

Peter’s teeth grazed over his shoulder again and Stiles stiffened.

“It won’t turn you.” Peter said. “If I’m not turned.” he added thrusting deeper than before. “Let me bite you…” he asked as he pulled out as much as he could, and thrust back in with a hint of impatience. Stiles was way over the point of speaking at that point so he just nodded, not really sure what he agreed to. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be a werewolf. Not yet. Not like this. Not now. Peter latched onto his shoulder then, sucking at the place where his shoulder met his neck and it was heavenly and Stiles arched his back, throwing his head back to feel him.

Peter let go of his hand, but Stiles didn’t feel like he was leaving him; the man was already inside him, all over him and _with_ him. Peter grabbed on his hips against and pulled him up on his knees, even if Stiles didn’t feel any strength in them, but the man could hold them both up. The new angle forced a deep moan from Stiles’ chest as he felt Peter’s cock press against his sweet spot so much it almost hurt. He cursed out loud, grabbing on the headrest of the bed with both hands. He wanted to reach down and stroke himself, but the way Peter was rutting into him made it impossible.

“I’m going to come… I’m going to come…” Stiles breathed almost in panic and he felt Peter make his thrusts deeper. “I’m going to come…” the boy sobbed and he heard the man say something, but the moment his white pleasure hit him he went blind and deaf. He came without even touching his hardness and it was one of the most sensational experiences. He kept trying to thrust into something as he came again, cursing Peter and everything about this mating thing. Peter just laughed behind him, but didn’t slow down. He was riding toward his own, final release, Stiles realized as he was trying to keep himself up with the last bit of his strength.

“Oh, you’re good, you’re really good…” he heard Peter’s hoarse voice as he leaned all over his back again, pressing his nose against his neck. “Stiles, you’re… good, really… incredible…” he rambled sweet words and his queen’s name into flushed skin as his movements became ragged and erratic. His grip was bruising on Stiles’ hips and he finally opened his mouth to run his teeth over the boy’s skin again. Then slowly he sank his human teeth into the shoulder of the boy as his hips were pounding into him. Peter was coming hard and long and Stiles was sure he blacked out for a few seconds, because when he came to his senses, his head was back on the pillow. He was still connected with Peter as the man pushed them down, lying on Stiles a little, pressing his chest against his back and nuzzling into his hair. Stiles couldn’t hear what he said, but his voice was back to normal and his movements were sluggish and almost weak.

When Peter moved a little off him, but didn’t slip out, Stiles groaned and turned his head at the man laying next to him and still half on a top of him. Though he didn’t feel the strength to open his eyes.

“Peter…” he started a bit tired.

“About half an hour.” The man answered, not opening his eyes, sounding just as exhausted.

“What…?” Stiles frowned.

“My… knot will go back in size in half an hour. Until then we’re connected, my queen.” Peter spoke into the sheets but his arm went out to stroke Stiles’ back reassuringly.

“Brilliant.” The boy sighed and finally opened his eyes too to look at Peter’s sleeping features. It just occurred to him that this was the most time they were spending together, and maybe the first time Peter held him this long after their intercourse. It maybe made every ache and pain better. “With this you belong to me too?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask, and Peter finally opened his eyes, capturing him with his blue gaze.

“Yes.” he said quietly, almost as if being afraid. Stiles just sighed and reached out to caress the man’s sweaty and flushed cheek with the back of his knuckles. So they became one, he wondered fondly and leaned over to brush his lips against Peter’s.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad week this is, huh. Accompanied by a kinda sad chapter too.
> 
> Betaed by Evy~

“To the gods, this is like losing my virginity all over again.” Stiles muttered into the pillow when he woke up. His entire body was sore and he felt bruises all over his hips; the bite on his shoulder stung, also he felt a slight burn at other places. He might have been finally one with Peter, but he still felt like he was waking up in Hell.

Last night, after Peter slipped out of him, he didn’t leave him but retrieved the covers and pulled Stiles close to his body. The autumn night was cold, but pressed against Peter Stiles didn’t have to feel any of that and it was good.

“Stop the thing where you make sounds with your mouth.” Peter grumbled from beside him, still having a loose arm over his middle. Stiles just sleepily rolled his eyes and looked over at the window to try and see how long they had been sleeping. Apparently, they managed to sleep through the whole night, because the sun was just coming up. No wonder he felt sore. He also realized that he was missing for three days now. With a groan, Stiles turned on his stomach and moved closer to Peter.

“We should go.” the boy whispered, nuzzling at him.

“No.” Peter answered, not even moving.

“The people must be worried.” Stiles tried, but he figured Peter doesn’t really care about it. “Are you sure it’s safe to leave Derek and everyone alone for this long?”

“I’m not afraid of them, no matter what they are planning.” the man sighed and slowly reached to rub the drowsiness out of his eyes, realizing he can’t go back to sleep at this rate.

“They know you got bitten on the battlefield, the rumors are all over.” Stiles tried and Peter rolled his eyes.

“There was a rumor where they said I have three heads and I spit acid from my mouth.” he snorted. “I’m the king, no one can go against me.”

“Only everyone.” Stiles sighed, frowning. “If they go against you _together_ …” he started, but stopped at Peter’s glare.

“I could overthrow this whole kingdom, Stiles. I’m strong.” the man said as if that explained everything. “The real question is what will you do?”

“What will I do?” Stiles frowned.

“You told me you will stand next to me.” Peter spoke and his blue eyes pinned Stiles. “You swore loyalty before and you were ready to follow me wherever I go.” Stiles’ breath hitched when he realized why Peter was speaking in the past tense. He wanted to ask Stiles _again_ , now that he knew everything. The queen finally knew what Peter wanted; what his final goal was and the man asked if he would still stand by him. If he will stay with him until the kingdom was burned up by the new gods.

“How dare you ask me this…?” Stiles whispered and slowly sat up, ignoring how his body complained about it. “How dare you ask me this _now_!? After everything?!” he swallowed and his hand went to the bite on his shoulder. His trembling fingers weakly brushed over the abused skin as his mind was rushing.

If he supports Peter he will certainly assist in the fall of a whole kingdom. The new gods will burn everything up. They might be happy together for a while, but no one else will be. And there is the other option, where Stiles picks to stop standing next to Peter. He realized he can’t exactly go against him anymore, but that doesn’t mean he should continue to support him. Again, Stiles caught himself wishing he wouldn’t be queen so he didn’t have to make this choice.

“Why won’t you step down? Why won’t you stop this?” he asked, burying his face into one of his palms already knowing it’s useless to ask Peter that question.

“I was fighting all these years and I’m not going to withdraw. Not even for you.” Peter added and Stiles knew in that moment that he too found his answer. It was actually clear to him from the beginning, it was what he was fighting for; it was the reason he married Peter in the first place; the reason that made them this close actually.

“I want a strong empire, Peter. One that is not punished by the gods.” He said quietly, eying the end of their bed. “I can’t let you do this.” He added with a tight throat and he felt Peter’s hand sliding around his chest and pulling him back down on the bed.

“I know.” the man said, pulling Stiles close.

“Then why did you make me say it?” the boy asked, snuggling close to steal some of Peter’s warmth.

“So that you know too.” The king said quietly and Stiles finally realized why he wasn’t in a hurry. Until they were on the road, they didn’t have to think about sides, and the kingdom, on the road they were just two travelers. And not a beast of the old and not the king of the new.

\--

They spent half a day in that inn, resting and eating, even if Stiles really wanted to get on the road. He advised Peter to go back to the old capital, because he really wanted to see his father. Also, Peter officially was heading there too.

As they were getting ready to leave their room, Stiles still felt an aching pain shoot up his spine every time he moved and he wondered how the hell he’ll sit on a horse like this. But they couldn’t take more time to themselves, they were the king and queen after all.

“Would you stop with the groans, it’s turning me on.” Peter commented as he tied his belt with his sword around his waist.

“Well at least someone’s having something good out of it.” Stiles grumbled, tying his trousers. He bit in his lips to not grunt again but as he took a step he couldn’t stop. Peter was in front of him the next moment and Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. “No, no wait, we don’t have time and I’m still hurting..!” he stuttered, suddenly blushing.

“I know, don’t worry.” the man smirked at him, too amused for Stiles’ taste and still slipped his hands in the boy’s trousers.

“Peter, I said no!” Stiles gasped when he felt his husband grope his backside. He tried to push against his chest, but then he felt something. The pain he felt before was getting less and less striking. “What are you doing?” Stiles asked frowning.

“I’m taking your pain away.” the king answered lightly, with a shrug.

“You can do this and you’re just using it now?! For this?!” Stiles hissed and punched his husband’s shoulder in slight embarrassment.

“I really prefer to hurt people, Stiles, you should already know.” Peter chuckled and squeezed the boy’s buttocks before pulling his hand away. “At least you’ll stop with the noises for now.” he remarked.

In no time the king and queen were on the road again, riding toward the old capital. Stiles realized it will be the first time in a year when he can finally see his father again. Scott will be there too, and his Lady Allison and maybe Her Grace Lydia. He hadn’t seen them in a long time.

Their journey was two more days and they didn’t really stop, only for small breaks. Stiles never saw the night sky so bright and full of stars than the nights they were traveling. He kept pointing out constellations and his favorite stars and he was damn proud when Peter actually remembered a few stars too.

After a long journey, they finally spotted the walls of the old capital and Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. He felt like it was ages since he had looked upon them, yet it was only just a few months. He tightened his grip on the saddle, taking a deep breath. Suddenly, he’d gotten nervous. He will see everyone again, but he didn’t feel like the boy who left this castle. He wasn’t a prince, but a queen now and he was in love with a doomed creature. Peter must have felt his nervousness too, because his lips placed a light kiss at the back of his neck as he guided their horse to the gates.

“Tell the old king the King and Queen have arrived.” Peter ordered the guards and they already ran to bring the news to the castle. “The first time they were expecting me here. I want them to expect me now too.” Peter muttered as they slowly trotted on the stone road that was leading up to the castle. The walls were brown and yellowish and the whole town felt friendlier than Beacon Fortress. The smell of roasted meat was in the air and Stiles couldn’t help feeling homesick even if he was already back home. He just realized how much he missed this place and the people here, and that they were the reason he will have to push Peter away.

The way up to the castle was shorter than Stiles wanted it to be. He wanted to go home, back to his father, but not like this. Peter grabbed on the reins a bit tighter as they entered the castle grounds and arrived in the yard. The boy wanted to ask what was wrong, but as he moved his head he spotted archers in the windows and on the top of the walls all of them targeting them. A rush of fear cut into Stiles as he was eying all these archers just waiting for an order to let go of their arrows.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he heard Peter’s voice and it almost sounded as if he was expecting this kind of welcome. Stiles licked his lips and raised his gaze to their welcoming committee: the guards of the castle with Scott at the front with his sword in his hand. But the one who spoke next wasn’t Scott, it was Derek. Stiles frowned, wondering when he’d gotten here. But the old capital was only a two days ride from the fortress, Derek could have been here for a while.

“We have proof you’re no longer fit to be on the throne.” Derek said, tightening his grip on his own sword and Stiles swallowed. He wondered which of the thousand reasons they’ll bring up in such a manner. He felt Peter move behind him and slowly got off his horse then reached out for him to help him off too. But as the queen’s feet hit the ground the king grabbed his throat and drew a sword. Everyone tensed and Stiles could almost hear the arrows flying at them.

“Let the Queen go.” Derek hissed as Scott hurried to stand next to him, ready to do anything to save Stiles from the middle of this confrontation.

“First I want to hear what kind of madness is everyone getting at and how dare you treat me in such ways.” Peter hissed, moving his sword closer to Stiles’ middle and the boy whimpered. This really isn’t how he imagined his death at all and yet he knew Peter wouldn’t hurt him. Well, he would actually hurt him, but not kill him. Not anymore.

Derek sighed and his brows furrowed more. He was clearly thinking about how he should proceed into this situation.

“You’re no longer human.” Scott started then. “You’ve got bitten in your last battle by a werewolf. Your men have seen it.”

“My men?” Peter chuckled and a young soldier stepped forward. His face was of a boy’s, but his eyes were more of a warrior’s. He walked next to Scott, brushing his light brown, curly locks from his face to look at Peter. “Isaac.” the king smiled in a too sweet manner at him. In a second two more soldiers joined Isaac; a girl with long, golden strands of hair and another boy with dark skin of the southern people.

“We’ve seen you get bitten.” Isaac started, his voice dripping from something thick and dark. Probably revenge and anger.

“Who—“ Stiles started, but Peter covered his mouth with his hand to shut him up.

“There is no proof it was a bite that would turn me.” Peter started, carrying his gaze over the soldiers.

“Go through the werewolf trial and prove us wrong then.” Derek said.

“How dare you.” Peter hissed and Stiles hoped he was the only one hearing the hint of a growl.

“If you refuse we have the right to assume you’re indeed a beast of the old gods and straight out execute you for your sins.” Derek continued and it made Peter laugh.

“What would exactly be my sin?” he asked almost ironically.

“You didn’t report that you’ve been turned; you attempted to stay king and bring destruction to this kingdom. Your sin is high treason.” Derek continued. “If the new king refuses to serve the best of its people then all his rights would ascend back to the old king.” he added, his gaze flickering to Stiles for a second.

Peter took a deep breath and looked around them. At the archers, at one of the members of his family and probably his leftover pack. They all turned against him, he was alone. He was cornered and they will push him off the throne. He expected it to happen at some point, but not this quick.

“I have nothing to hide.” he started. “I’ll go through your werewolf trial.” he said with a kind of confidence that surprised Stiles too. Maybe Peter will be able go through the trial? He had no idea how he felt about that, he was already too confused.

But before he could think more about it, Peter lowered his sword and let him go. Stiles stumbled a little and turned back to the king for a second. He wanted to say something, probably say goodbye or thank him or _something_ , but for the first time, he couldn’t manage to speak. Peter’s lips pulled into a small smirk and he reached for his queen’s hand. The kiss on Stiles’ fingers was gentle and warm and his heart broke when he had to pull away. He turned and didn’t look back, he didn’t want to see how these people who were afraid of Peter are out to drag him down, probably throw him into a dungeon and humiliate him.

It was Scott who was hurrying next to Stiles and the queen realized he had no idea where he was going. He was just rushing away from the scene, walking the castle’s corridors.

“Scott…” he started and came to a halt, looking at his friend. His chest ached from various things and one of them made him reach out for his friend and hug him.

“It’s good to have you back alive.” Scott said, hugging back, and his voice sounded just as cracked as Stiles’ heart felt. “I was afraid that-“

“Stop that.” Stiles sniffed, rubbing his eyes. “I thought the same and I- really don’t want to be reminded. Now I just want those traitors to be caught.” he added.

“They were caught.” Scott said, frowning a little. “They confessed too.”

“What?!” Stiles frowned, blinking at his friend. “Deucalion? The man with… blindfold and all?”

“Yes, and his… group.” the guard nodded. “They were used by Peter.” He said then a bit hesitant, eying Stiles as if trying to see his reaction in every detail.

“Wait, what?!” the queen gasped again, thinking he had heard it wrong. “Peter? What in the name of the gods do you mean!?” The way Deucalion was talking about Peter Stiles doubted they could ever look at each other without snarling, let alone sit down and plan a whole kidnapping together.

“They said… Peter asked them to take you.”

“Then why would he bring me back!?” Stiles almost clawed at his face how stupid this was, but Scott’s answer made him freeze.

“Because of image. He’d do anything to stop the rumors about him. The people… they can feel something’s not right with him.” Scott said quietly, looking away. Apparently, he felt the same. Stiles sighed as he was eying his friend. All this was so silly and he couldn’t believe Scott and the people fell for it. But they probably wanted to fall for it. It was just one more rumor in the pile, one more ‘mistake’ Peter made.

“Do you believe it was Peter?” Stiles asked then, putting his hand on Scott’s shoulder. Scott just eyed something on the floor, then sighed.

“Your father is waiting to see you.” he said with a light smile, and somehow Stiles didn’t mind he hadn’t gotten an answer.

Scott gladly lead him to the old king’s study and Stiles wasn’t expecting to almost break down when he could finally see him and talk to him. The old king looked tired, but still as determined as ever. Now that no one was fighting in their country, he was ready to finally put the ruling in order too. He had known about Derek’s plan about exposing Peter’s bite. But Stiles had to realize that the old king didn’t know that the Hales were werewolves and it was good like that. They didn’t need the whole country to be hysteric about all the Hales. It was enough to see what they were doing with Peter.

Stiles also kept his mouth shut about Deucalion and the others. They were sill facing years of prison, but they won’t go through a werewolf trial. Stiles thought that no one should ever go through that trial, ever.

“Father…” Stiles started then at dinner with the old king. It was so strange that they were together again, while Peter was in prison. The queen expected him to turn up any second and demand him to go with him. But of course it didn’t happen. “How much did you know? I mean… about the gods and the werewolves.”

The old king frowned, and sighed heavily as he was eying the piece of meat on his plate.

“I knew… that our country will flourish with the power of the new gods. I saw how my father was working hard to bring forth the new religion and offer a safe, peaceful country for his people. He always told me to get rid of the old habits, the old temples, the old…”

“Beasts…” Stiles muttered quietly. His father smiled a little and nodded. “Why? The old gods were leaving the lands, their powers were weakening… why did you have to fight against the old religion in such a bloody way?”

“It wasn’t just me, Stiles.” his father said. “The people came to realize how terrifying the old religion was and how the old creatures were something they could fight against.”

“Did you give orders to burn up a house just because they said the family living there were werewolves?” Stiles asked suddenly and hoped it wouldn’t be true.

“That…” the old king started, his voice thick with guilt. “Was an action of royal hunters, yes.”

“Someone from the Argents?” Stiles frowned and his father nodded. “Was it Sir Argent?”

“No, no it was his sister, Lady Kate Argent.” the old king spoke. “I did order them to keep an eye on that family, because we weren’t sure if they were beasts or not.” he added, as if trying to confess to a sin he didn’t really commit. But Stiles knew he still felt guilty about it. Yet, there was slight hope in there for Derek and Cora.

The queen sighed. He knew Lady Kate Argent and now he knew why she was the first one to die in the rebelling. It was because she personally burned down the Hale house.

“Stiles.” his father started when he noticed he wasn’t eating. “I’m really sorry you had to go through this.”

Stiles snapped his head up. No, he’s not going to let his father take the blame for this too.

“No… Dad, I chose this, alright? I chose to marry Peter Hale, and I… I… you know, I think I did my best.” he said, but at the end of his sentence his throat tightened. It was really a lot he had to go through and he wasn’t ready to look back at it. Not now. Not like this. “And, you know… there is actually peace in the country.” he added with a sniff, looking away.

His father just smiled at him, but didn’t push the matter and Stiles was thankful for that. He will need time. And he will see how Peter’s trial will go.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so emotional right now... Thank you for reading!!!
> 
> Betaed by Evy~

 

Returning to the old capital, next to his father and his friends, after everything was like returning to a time long forgotten. People were smiling at him, and not that polite smile he always got in the fortress after he executed the servants, it was a genuine smile. For some reason Stiles’ stomach clenched into a knot every time he saw it.

Once again, he was waking up to Scott by his bed, already bringing his breakfast, and during the day he could meet with old friends and familiar faces. He spent lunch and dinner with his father, and he’d gotten a letter that Her Grace Lydia was close by and will visit the old capital too. Stiles’ days didn’t include dealing with any of the Hales. He didn’t meet either Derek, or even Peter. They said Cora stayed back in the old Hale lands, but Derek was definitely in the old capital.

The werewolf trial was three days after they arrived back to the castle and Stiles wondered why wait that long. He didn’t ask anyone though. He didn’t want to talk about Peter, he actually didn’t want to think about him at all; only during the long nights he wondered if Peter really had enchanted him. Would that explain that dull ache in his chest that made his throat feel like he just swallowed something that burns his insides?

The night before the werewolf trial, Scott stayed in his room a bit longer.

“Stiles.” he started. “They will hold the trial tomorrow.” he spoke, looking at the Queen who was sitting by his table reading a book.

“I know.” Stiles said lightly, shrugging.

“They will find him guilty.”

“Why are you so sure?” Stiles asked more curious than angry. He felt like he should be angrier, or sadder, but what he felt was something closer to dullness. Almost boredom.

“Derek said he knew how.” the guard answered, looking down. “I just wanted you to know.” Stiles frowned, looking over at Scott and wondered what he meant by that. He was eying his friend, trying to read him and then it occurred to him.

“You don’t think I was enchanted…” Stiles whispered and Scott swallowed, looking away.

“I don’t know what happened, brother.” he spoke quietly. “I just want you to stay safe. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore…” he motioned toward Stiles with his hand without finishing the sentence and the queen felt scared.

There was no hope for Peter anymore. They will find him guilty and they will execute him in front of all the people. He will die. Stiles took a sharp breath and suppressed a shiver. He carried his gaze around the room as if it was the first time he saw it. He felt like waking from a dream and he didn’t like it, because he woke up to a nightmare.

“Maybe you should leave the castle for a while… Go to the manor by the lake. I’ll go with you.” Scott’s soothing voice was calming, but not enough.

“I’ll stay.” Stiles said, just realizing how hoarse his voice was. “I want to see…” he stuttered and Scott grabbed his hand, squeezing it. The boy still didn’t approve of anything Stiles did in the past, but he wasn’t about to leave him. Unlike someone else.

\--

Stiles read about the werewolf trials. They started in his grandparents’ time when they brought the new religion with the new gods and started chasing out the old. They put suspicious people through trials and one of them was the werewolf trial. They would try and trigger the transformation of the poor soul who sometimes indeed transformed, but most of the time just died from the damage they had to suffer through. They would cut them to see how they heal, they would cover them with wolfsbane and if those didn’t work they would proceed to torture them until it was sure they weren’t werewolves. It really was more of a torturing rather than a trial.

Peter wasn’t human, he was a werewolf, but he seemed confident in his choice. Stiles wondered why, but then Scott said Derek knew how to deal with him. The worst part was that the queen knew that Peter couldn’t win in this and yet he still hoped for some miracle… Even if he knew that Peter’s death would be the only conclusion at this point.

They held the trial on castle grounds and opened the gates for the people too so anyone who wanted to and was fast enough to arrive in time could see it. Stiles was watching from his window how they set up the stage for their king. It was early in the morning, but the townspeople already swarmed the castle grounds and Stiles sent Scott away to help maintain the security. He only kept two guards outside his door; he didn’t need company for this.

The moment they led Peter on the stage the crowd was furious, but Stiles could feel the tension. They were afraid of Peter for long years and they were still afraid. No one dared to throw anything on stage, or shout, they were waiting, _expecting_. Stiles licked his lips as he was eying the man and realized his presence was still that of a warlord who had conquered their whole kingdom. That’s why the crowd was still afraid: Peter was their _king_.

The executioners proceeded as Stiles had read, tying Peter’s arms to the two set up poles and making a small cut on his forearm. The man didn’t even wince, but the cut didn’t heal and Stiles gasped. Peter probably could control his healing… The queen licked his lips and grabbed onto the windowsill. This is what Peter was playing at: he could control his healing. He might really be able to go through this trial.

It was going exactly how Stiles read it in the books and Peter wasn’t showing any signs of being a werewolf. The crowd was getting nervous too, just like the executioners. Hysteria was about to break out: were they _wrong_?

Stiles felt cold sweat break out on his body, already thinking about what Peter will do if he comes out of this alive and tortured. He will be the one personally burning up the country and not the new gods.

Just when that thought was running through everyone’s head, one of the executioners took a torch and lit it. Stiles frowned. Burning the suspected wasn’t a part of the trial. The man let the torch burn a little, while he was looking at Peter.

The king cocked his chin up as if he expected this kind of trick, and Stiles felt his stomach drop. Peter was burned once, he practically died in a fire… The fire made him swore revenge against the country and the new era. The queen watched as the torch was getting closer to Peter’s naked shoulder, his skin already blistered and Stiles felt like he was going to get sick. Peter bared his teeth.

Stiles turned away from the window, pushing his back against the wall. The roar of the werewolf was painful and ear deafening. Stiles covered his own ears as he slumped down the wall, screaming to not have to hear it, but it still echoed inside his whole body. He shut his eyes so tight tears were rolling down his cheeks. Peter was found guilty, he was a werewolf, naturally. The people went mad and their shouting and cursing was worse than Peter’s roar. Stiles didn’t want to hear any of that, so he stayed in his room with his hands tight against his ears.

Three days ago he thought he finally arrived home, but he realized he wasn’t home. He had no idea where his home was anymore.

After the successful trial, they took Peter to the prison in the town. They will execute him on the town’s square in two days. The old king was king again, and Stiles was just a fallen queen; a prince married to the traitor. Stiles also knew he wouldn’t be able to be king anymore; he was stuck as a prince, because his country didn’t believe in him anymore. He didn’t particularly care; as long as he could sit close to where things were happening, he felt like he might be able to do his best. He knew they will have a long talk with his father about who could be a good successor of the throne.

\--

The next day Derek requested his release from the castle back to the original Hale lands and Stiles found himself wanting to shout at him. Scott told Stiles the man was down the castle grounds preparing his horse. He wanted to travel alone. Stiles wondered why he wouldn’t stay for the execution of his uncle, but then he realized. It was probably because Peter was still his _uncle_.

Stiles stepped out of the entrance, looking around for Derek just to see him by his horse, ready to go. His stance was tense and his eyes were unfocused. His whole presence was a mess and as Stiles walked down the stairs to meet him he wondered how Derek looked much, much older.

“Derek…” Stiles started and jumped a little at how weak his voice sounded. He had no idea what to say suddenly, even if he wanted to yell at the man. He wanted to make him feel guilty for what he had done to Peter, but he found no strength for it as he was watching Derek. The sorrow in the man’s eyes was thick and suffocating and the prince realized that there was enough guilt there already.

“Your Majesty.” Derek muttered, not even looking at him. He mentally scrambled to put on a strong expression and not one of a weakling’s, Stiles realized. The prince licked his lips, looking away for a second.

“Your family is protected. Your secret is safe with me.” he started, suddenly raising his eyes back at the soldier. Derek froze and finally looked at him too. His glance had a hint of confusion, but for Stiles’ greatest relief it softened. Derek trust him. Finally, after everything. “No need for more bloodbath over old traditions.” Stiles swallowed. It was never really proven that all the Hales were werewolves, so they might have a chance of living a peaceful life. A life they originally wanted and deserved.

Derek just nodded without a word and Stiles thought he was done speaking. And that was fine. Stiles stepped closer and put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a little as a goodbye, then turned to leave.

“You would have been a good king.” Derek started suddenly and Stiles felt as if an arrow just shot through his chest. He slowly turned back to the man, his lips dry. “It’d have been an honor to serve you, Your Majesty.” Stiles throat tightened, but said nothing as Derek finally got on his horse. He was finally going home, back to his only family. Stiles wondered if maybe this was the last time they’d see each other.

“Sir Derek Hale.” Stiles started quietly. “The honor would have been mine.” he nodded and watched as the man turned his horse around and galloped away. The last of the Hales were out of his life and Stiles should have felt relieved. But all he could feel was something heavy and burdening that pulled down his shoulders and knees to the point where he could barely walk, or get out of bed.

\--

Her Grace Lydia Martin arrived a day before Peter’s execution, requesting a private dinner with the prince. Actually she was the only person who could make Stiles leave his room and tend his duties. Ever since the trial he didn’t feel like himself; he wasn’t sad or angry, not even feeling dull. He just …existed. At the request of Her Grace he forced himself to get out of bed and go to the royal dining room. As expected it was only the two of them spending their lunch as such.

“Long time no see, Your Majesty.” Lydia started, picking up her fork.

“Oh, indeed. Thank you for the help with the bear.” Stiles smiled politely, looking over the Duchess. She was as beautiful as ever with her strawberry red hair, fair skin and pink lips. Stiles once again wondered how she could be a siren, because nothing this vivid and pink could come from the dark-dark ocean. Yet, as he was looking at her, something caught his eye. It wasn’t anything visible, more like an undertone. A feeling. Something _familiar_.

“Don’t mention it.” Lydia smiled politely, then eyed him for a few minutes while he didn’t speak, then sighed.

“Did I ever tell you about my late husband Jackson?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. Stiles just rolled his eyes.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk about that prick.” he started and took a deep breath. He was still a royalty, he wasn’t supposed to talk like this about anyone, let alone the dead. But Lydia didn’t miss a beat, she just pulled her lips into an unhappy smile and continued.

“I loved him.” she stated it as a matter of fact. “He was a horrible person, he wasn’t as strong as he showed to others and I’ve never seen anyone more selfish than he was.” Stiles snorted, wondering why Lydia’s telling this to him now. He knew all of this before, that’s why he hated Jackson, because he was a stuck up, evil little troll. And he snatched Lydia from under his nose. Good old times. “I married him for status and wealth.” Lydia said. “And along the way I made this stupid little mistake.”

Stiles stopped munching on his piece of meat and raised his eyes at the duchess again. He quickly swallowed his bite, almost choking on it and Lydia continued, a bit quieter this time.

“I loved him.” she said, eying Stiles this time. “I thought I would have stood next to him until the end of times, and he knew that too. He was in love with me, Stiles. In his own, selfish, abusive way… and I thought that was enough.” She licked her trembling lips and looked away. Her eyes were sparkling from tears in the lazy autumn sunlight.

“What happened?” Stiles’ voice was just a whisper. He felt like choking, because what Lydia was saying made too much sense and he could _relate_.

“One night someone broke into the manor and stabbed him.” Her Grace said. “I could have saved him.” she added and she turned back to the prince then.

“You didn’t?” Stiles asked a little confused.

“I didn’t.” she whispered. The prince didn’t ask the question ‘why’, because he knew Lydia will answer. And she did. “I would have continued to love him and do as he pleases. I could bear with everything he was causing to me… But then I got a chance to break free. I could have never hurt him, but I could step aside.”

“You… let him die, so your love wouldn’t destroy your life.” Stiles muttered in shock. He was looking at Lydia, and really looked at her. She was strong-willed and she was powerful, but even she couldn’t match up to this stupid thing called love. It wasn’t romantic, it was _awful_ and _destructive_.

“I chose my pride.” she said, smiling, but not happy. “And I don’t regret it, Stiles. I paid a huge price for my mistake. But I have no regrets.”

The boy swallowed, looking around their table in deep thought. Lydia made her choice, but Stiles knew she was waking from nightmares deep in the night, screaming. She had to make the same choice as him and she chose for Jackson to die. She didn’t run away, she just chose a different way.

Stiles thought he already made his choice too, but he realized he hadn’t. He still had one day. One more day.

“Lydia…” he looked up at her, his limbs trembling.

“I’m not telling you what to do.” the duchess started sharply. “But you and I are not the same and I want you to really think about that.”

Stiles jumped from his chair and hurried around the table to Lydia. He cupped her face in his hands and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you…” he whispered against her skin and kissed her again. “Thank you, thank you…” he repeated and he felt Lydia stand from her chair, sliding his arms around him.

“Take care.” she whispered in a shivering voice. Stiles moved his arms to hug her back too.

“Thank you…!” he said at last. “And I’m sorry…” he added, before he turned to leave. He didn’t look back. He was discrete enough to leave Lydia and her tears alone.

\--

“W-what?” Scott blinked as he was watching Stiles close an envelope with wax and his seal.

“I want to see him.” Stiles said and finally turned to Scott, leaving the letter on his table.

“But…” his guard frowned, shaking his head a little, but the queen didn’t budge. “Alright.” Scott sighed and motioned Stiles to follow him. They went in secret, because Stiles didn’t want to draw too much attention. The town’s prison wasn’t that far from the castle after all and on small streets they could reach it quickly and without much attention.

When they arrived to Peter’s cell, Scott was looking troubled. His brows were furrowed and his lips were a thin line as he was trying to think of something to say. Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to make him stop, or he wanted to talk about it again, or just straight out wanted to tell his prince and best friend how stupid he was. _Stiles had heard it all before…_

Stiles stepped closer to Peter, his gaze not leaving him as if afraid he will disappear. The man looked tired and his old cruel presence was just of an angry, old and fallen king’s. Stiles swallowed and walked up to him, hearing the keys ring in Scott’s hand as he was thinking about pulling him back. But in the end he let Stiles do as he wanted.

Peter eyed Stiles, his expression was unreadable. Was he happy? Was he afraid? Or he didn’t feel anything, maybe he was incapable of it and Stiles caught himself thinking that he wouldn’t be surprised. With a sigh he slowly knelt down to be at eyelevel with Peter. It was the first time he’d seen him this close since they arrived back in the old capital and his chest tightened.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked with a hint of a laugh in his raspy voice and Stiles frowned at him.

“I…” he started, but then the man moved his hand slowly to his face and brushed his cheek with his thumb. Stiles just realized that his face was wet with tears.

“Stiles.” Peter really chuckled lowly this time, almost disappointed. “You really don’t have to do this.” he whispered.

“Peter.” Stiles started, grabbing his husband’s hand before he could pull it away. He had no idea what he should say or do or ask. Or why he even came here. “Did… did you know why… why the new gods don’t like the old beasts?” he asked, suddenly nervous.

“I can’t believe that in the last of my hours you’re going to treat me with once again useless knowledge.” Peter sighed, looking out the window, at the place he will be executed tomorrow.

“The new gods… the new gods- they think you don’t have a soul. That no werewolf has one.” Stiles spoke and wiped his eyes a bit angrily.

“A soul, huh.” Peter snorted, turning his head back to the boy. “That is one thing they would be right about. I, personally, don’t possess a soul. I thought you were aware of that by now.” he said almost triumphantly. Stiles shook his head.

“I think it’s not true, I know you have one. You might not have a heart, but you have a soul.” he insisted and Peter chuckled again. “I know…” Stiles repeated and the following silence almost deafened him. Until suddenly, Peter spoke ever so softly.

“The gods are really cruel. Old, new, ancient, they are all cruel.” he murmured, carrying his gaze around his cell. “The old ones abandoned me. They let my family burn and made me survive as a shell…” he said. “And then the new ones gave you to me.” he smiled and Stiles’ breath hitched. “While I clearly don’t deserve you. The gods were just taunting me.” he sighed and his gaze became sharper as he eyed Stiles.

“So I want you to get out of here. Go and don’t look back. You can build your kingdom now the way you and everyone wants it, Stiles. You won, you beat the old beasts, you beat me.” he spoke darkly in a low voice and every word of his was like a stab in Stiles’ heart, because Peter was telling the truth. Then Peter pushed him away. “Get out!” he roared and Scott was by Stiles’ side, pulling him away.

Stiles just scrambled away in a shock, he barely realized that his bodyguard pulled him to his feet.

“I knew this was a bad idea.” Scott hissed as he dragged him out of the cell. He attempted to get out of the town’s prison and probably escort Stiles back to the castle. But then Stiles freed his hands from his grip.

“Give me the keys.” he said and he was aware his stare must have been bordering on manic, because Scott’s breath hitched.

“Stiles—“ he started, but the prince didn’t wait for him. He was done with words. So he grabbed the keys from Scott’s hand and pushed him away. Stiles turned to run back to Peter’s cell but he spotted a torch on the wall. Without thinking he quickly grabbed it and used it to stop Scott to jump at him. He kept backing away to Peter’s cell holding up the light until he reached the door. Stiles threw the torch toward Scott and the guards who were assembling at the commotion and turned to open the door.

Stiles threw himself down to Peter again, grabbing one of his hands to open his shackles.

“Do you have a death wish?!” the wolf hissed at him and attempted to push him away. Stiles bared his teeth and clang to the man’s arm, still trying to open the handcuff.

“You made me yours and then you’d throw it all away?!” Stiles shouted when he managed to open the lock. Then he reached for Peter’s other hand. “I’m not going to let you die! I promised I’ll protect you!”

“Stiles!” Peter roared back, and at the same time someone grabbed on the boy’s shoulder. Stiles groaned and tried to push the guard away, but he had an iron grip on him.

“Your Majesty—“ he started, pulling Stiles away, but the boy was fighting. Though he still wasn’t a match for a built prison guard, so he managed to drag him away from Peter, throwing him against the bars. Stiles blacked out for a second as his head hit the hard wooden bars, because when he opened his eyes Peter was crouching over the guard having a death grip on his neck.

“Peter!” Stiles gasped and scrambled to his feet to stop him. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt or die. He practically pried Peter’s hand off the unconscious guard and held it as tight as he could. Then he gasped.

“You could… you could break the chains?” he asked out of breath and looked at Peter utterly confused.

“I could.” Peter nodded and squeezed Stiles’ hand. He was strong enough to free himself, but he hadn’t done it. He hadn’t done it… The question must have been on Stiles’ face, because the wolf answered. “It didn’t have a point.” he said and pulled Stiles out of the cell.

Both of them stumbled to a halt as huge flames welcomed them. The torch Stiles used as a shield had lit the hay and wooden walls of the prison up in seconds. The smoke was already thick and it was difficult to see.

“Stiles!” the prince heard Scott’s voice and he just squeezed Peter’s hand at that. Scott arrived from the smoke and flames with more guards by his side, their sword drawn.

Stiles licked his burning lips, looking at Scott for a second.

“This way!” he turned to Peter and pulled him toward the opposite direction, where the flames were the most intense.

“Stiles!” Scott shouted almost hysterically and Peter pulled him back too. He didn’t say anything or screamed, but he was purely terrified and he wanted an explanation. Stiles had no time, none of them had time. So he just stepped close to Peter so he would definitely hear him in the destruction that was happening around them.

“Trust me.” Stiles said and pulled him after him once again. Peter didn’t stop him this time, but went with him. He followed the prince into the flames.

“STILES!” Scott screamed, but when he leaped after them the fire swallowed both Stiles and Peter.

The fire burned down the whole prison in a few hours, not leaving much after it. It was so hot and so destructive they could barely retrieve anything that was supposed to be the bones of the people trapped in it… Peter’s grave had became the prison and Stiles went with him.

\--

After the fire, Scott didn’t dare to walk near Stiles’ room. He tried to occupy himself, tried to make himself busy with the security and the building of a new prison in town or assisting in the funeral preparations. He requested to be the king’s private bodyguard, hoping that somehow he could work off the guilt he felt. He lost Stiles, he let him walk straight into the flames with Peter and burn. Scott saw their silhouettes in the smoke every time he went to sleep and he wasn’t sure if he’ll ever get over it. How he couldn’t have seen what Stiles had been planning?!

But one day Scott couldn’t bear it anymore. He opened the door and looked inside the room, expecting Stiles to be sitting by the table, or on his bed, or leaning out the window to see the sky. But the prince wasn’t there anymore. He was gone; and his empty room was proof of that. Scott slowly walked in, looking around and trying to remember the times when they were still kids, running around on castle grounds. When they laughed at the grown-ups together and everything was beyond them. There were no wars, or warlords. Werewolves were just a myth and the new gods were still merciful.

When Scott decided he tortured himself enough he turned to leave, but something caught his attention on the desk. It was the letter Stiles wrote on the day of the fire. Scott sighed and stepped to the desk to take the letter and bring it to whoever Stiles wrote it for. He was the most surprised when it was his name on the envelope.

Scott frowned and broke the seal, revealing the contents of the letter. It wasn’t a letter, it was the detailed plans of the town prison. The guard frowned, staring at the browned outlines and trying to make sense of it all. As he folded it open a small piece of paper fell out.

‘I’m sorry.’ was written on it with Stiles’ own handwriting.

That was it. An apology from Stiles and the map of the prison. What was he supposed to do with these? Scott sighed, staring at the last of the things Stiles was trying to tell him and his gaze fell upon Peter’s cell and where they escaped into their deaths. Stiles had lead them toward the flames to die. Scott didn’t have any other idea why he would have done that. But as he followed Stiles’ way, he saw something.

Scott frowned, leaning closer to the paper. He thought his mind was just playing tricks on him. But the longer he was staring at the drawing the more he realized: there was a secret trapdoor there.

They didn’t kill themselves; they _escaped_.

 

**Epilogue**

 

It has been more than a year since the short ruling of the Insane King. The people were afraid another war will break out after his trial, but the old King Stilinski had an iron grip on the landlords who would want to rebel, despite his obvious loss. The promising young crown prince had died under mysterious circumstances and it was questionable who will inherit the throne after him without an heir. But rumors said that the king adopted a gifted young knight: Scott McCall.

The town by the border had a small inn. It never had seen too many guests, but this time all its rooms were occupied and they had to cook more from the stew for the people. All the travelers had returned who fled the country during the War and wanted to refresh themselves before they proceed on their journey to the capital. The innkeeper was a middle aged woman; they called her Merry Mary, because her smile could warm the hearts just as much as her good ale.

Mary smiled as she was wiping the counter, listening to the bard’s song. A tale about the lands of the ancient gods; a song of long lost spells and forgotten creatures. His voice wasn’t that clear and his fingers were a bit clumsy on the lute, but what he lacked in skill, he made up in passion. His words were filled with magic; the kind which made people stop and turn to listen. He was a true storyteller, he was a true bard, mesmerizing his audience.

When he was done with his song the inn applauded him and a few people paid for the song. The boy accepted the money and stood from his place next to the fireplace to walk to the counter. Mary smiled at him as she saw him counting the small amount of money he’d gotten.

“Don’t worry about it boy, you already paid for your meal with that song.” She said gently and waved her hand a little. The bard looked up at her from under his dark green hood and she gasped. The boy had the most sparkling eyes she’d ever seen, but a huge burn mark was spreading on half of his face, running down his neck and she could only wonder where the scar ended. Mary was used to injured people like him. The war threatened to take everything from them and then the Insane King took over and it had gotten worse. There were a lot of injured men and women and even children on the road. Just like this boy. But with the promise of a new, young king these people might have a place to rest, finally.

“Then I’d like two plates of stew.” the bard smiled at her and she had to realize she was staring.

“Coming right up.” she smiled a little embarrassed as she prepared the stew. “I’m sorry for staring.” she apologized, placing the food on the counter.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” the boy shrugged, licking his lips as he was looking at the freshly made meal.

“I’m so sorry. It must have hurt and… it ruins such a pretty face.” she sighed, tilting her head to look at him again. The bard just smiled, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to feel sorry.” he started, looking up again at Mary with his eyes more vivid than before. “Because my husband kisses me every day and every night and I really don’t need anything else.”

Mary blinked a little surprised, but as she watched the boy take the two plates to bring them over to a man, she smiled again. Maybe their kingdom will be fine now, with a king like His Majesty McCall and with people like this boy and his husband.

 


End file.
